While you were scheming
by clothsofheaven
Summary: When Harry and Seamus become the only two in their Gryffindor clique without a partner they make a pact: they can't date unless the other does. So what does Blaise Zabini do when he wants to ask Seamus out? He gets the help of his best friend Draco Malfoy
1. Chapter One: The Gryffindor Pact

**Author's Notes:**

Greetings fellow Harry Potter fans and welcome to my first ever story, 'While you were scheming'

This is a slash fic containing Harry/Draco love (plus a little bit of Seamus/Blaise).

Reviews would be greatly appreciated. I know this is my first story so I won't be surprised if you tell me that it sucks. I would also really love and appreciate any suggestions that you have that might make this story better.

Thanks to Sanguiyn my wonderful beta, who not only saves me from grammatical errors, but also dresses as a super hero when she does it.

**Disclaimer:**

Loosely based on '10 Things I hate about you', which was based on Shakespeare's 'Taming of the Shrew'.

Gilmore Girls quote alert in this chapter too. ;-)

You all know that I don't own the Harry Potter characters, JKR does. But if I did, something like this would happen to them...

Blaise Zabini only ever had one thing on his mind. In fact, if his name could be looked up in a dictionary it would clearly state:

Blaise Zabini (Bl-aze Zab-ean-y) n. 1. Slytherin 2. Crafty 3. Gay 4. Unceasingly horny

The first two aforementioned characteristics never came as a surprise to him. He'd always known that he would be in Slytherin, as his family had expected it of him since birth. And as craftiness was a particular trait that was common to all Slytherins, and definitely a pre-requisite to enter the house, he prided himself on demonstrating it at all times.

The third characteristic, however, had come as a little bit of a shock to Blaise. He hadn't noticed his homosexuality until his sixth year. Consequently, this was also the time when he had begun to develop the fourth and final of his trademark characteristics. Sure, things had gotten bigger, hair had grown in unanticipated places, and he had had his fair share of interesting dreams, well before his sixth year. Except it wasn't until his dreams started to reveal more, that he began to become even hornier and realise his true gender preference.

Before sixth year, his dreams were always vague and dark. After experiencing them, he would wake up drenched in sweat and with a wet, sticky patch on his sheet, with no clear recollections of what the dream had actually contained. He knew that he had been naked in his dreams, and also touching an equally naked person, but that was about as detailed as it got.

When his sixth year started, he found himself no longer inclined to check out girls, but boys instead. He began checking out his dorm mates all the time, and as a result his dreams became clearer, with actual people he knew appearing in them, all of them boys.

His house mates easily accepted his homosexuality, once he decided to confide to them the reason for his sudden disinterest in his old favourite past time of using a levitating charm to hold up Pansy Parkinson's skirt to see what coloured underwear she had on that day.

Their straightforward approval was mostly due to certain unspoken rules that Slytherins have to follow. The most important one being: 'always respect your fellow housemate'. His best friend, Draco Malfoy, had been the most understanding, mainly because he had been openly gay himself for the past year.

Now, Blaise had remained true to his fourth characteristic ever since his realisation. He had had countless sexual trysts with many boys, both inside and outside Slytherin house. But as the year progressed and the rest of the sixth years began settling down into more serious, long-term partnerships, he found himself wanting the same.

But Blaise was not only crafty, gay and horny, he was also very picky. He concluded that his new partnership not only had to be serious for the long-term, but also needed to include a lot of sex to satisfy his addictive personality.

Blaise had spent the past couple of weeks analysing every gay male in his year, regardless of house and blood status. Choosing someone was a difficult task, due to his enduring pickiness. He wanted someone who was confident, good-looking and horny. He quickly had ruled out the Hufflepuffs because of this, as they were all gutless and incredibly cowardly. He also had ruled out any Ravenclaws, all far too studious to indulge in any sexual encounters.

All his sixth year Slytherin counterparts seemed worthy enough, but, after a lot of inner deliberation, he decided against it. After sharing a dormitory with them for nearly six years, he knew that not many of them would be capable of withstanding a serious relationship.

After all these eliminations, there was only one house left. Blaise considered the Gryffindors longer than he did any other house. After a long contemplation process, Blaise decided that Seamus Finnigan seemed to be the horniest and gayest of the lot, and also genuine enough to want more than a meaningless fling. So it was him that Blaise decided would be worthy enough to be his first ever proper boyfriend.

Draco Malfoy rolled his eyes for what seemed like the fiftieth time that day. This would usually be considered quite normal, except for the fact that it was only eight o'clock in the morning.

"Fucking hell, Blaise, can you keep your eyes off the Gryffindor table for five minutes?" Draco pleaded, dropping his fork loudly onto his plate in frustration. The fork made a loud clattering noise, but even that, along with Draco's whining, wasn't enough to stop Blaise from grinning appreciatively at the sandy-haired Gryffindor. He was becoming increasingly proud of his choice as he took in Seamus's sandy hair, bright blue eyes and to-die-for Irish accent, which he could barely hear over his fellow students' numerous loud conversations echoing throughout the Great Hall.

"You'll bore holes into Finnigan if you keep that up," Pansy stated, reaching over Blaise in order to retrieve a plate of bacon, thus blocking Blaise's view of the Gryffindor table. He reluctantly looked away from Seamus for the first time that morning and began to eat his toast, which had been ignored on his plate for the past fifteen minutes, as Blaise had deeply been contemplating how he would much rather eat up the Irish Gryffindor sitting on the other side of the Great Hall instead.

"Don't tell me that you're still serious about asking Finnigan out!" Draco declared, disgusted, pushing his breakfast plate away from him to further prove his revulsion.

"Of course," Blaise admitted proudly, not in the least bit embarrassed by Draco's loud voice.

Draco glared at him in shock. "I have no words…"

"Well, that's a nice change!" Blaise smirked before taking another bite of his toast.

"Oh, no, wait. I thought of some," Draco yelled, and Blaise covered his ears ready for the obvious incoming blow. "Jerk! Ass! Arrogant, mindless, stupid, butt-faced miscreant!"

"Butt-faced, Draco?" Blaise laughed. "That's highly unoriginal, especially from you."

"I just can't believe that you're actually considering--"

"Oh for heaven's sake, Draco, calm down!" Pansy interjected. "You have nothing to worry about."

"And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" Blaise asked haughtily, dropping his half eaten piece of toast back onto his plate. He allowed himself to turn and glare at Pansy expectantly.

"It means that it's not going to happen," Pansy stated confidently, ignoring Blaise and Draco's questioning looks while she poured herself a glass of orange juice.

"Mark my words, I fully intend to--" Blaise started, but Pansy interrupted again.

"Forget him, Blaise; it's not going to happen."

"And why the hell not?" Blaise was starting to get frustrated now.

"Finnigan can't date unless Potter does," Pansy revealed with her famous all-knowing smile. It was a well known fact that Pansy was the gossip queen of Hogwarts, and there was hardly any gossip that failed to reach her.

"Excuse me?" Blaise's frustrated expression immediately dropped and was replaced by one of confusion. "Since when has Seamus's dating life ever had anything to do with Potter?"

"You mean you haven't heard about the Gryffindor pact?" Pansy asked smugly. She loved knowing about things that other people didn't.

"Obviously not," Blaise huffed, hoping that it wouldn't be too much of a hitch in his plans.

"Well, you know how Dean Thomas is dating Ginny Weasley?" Pansy lowered her voice, leaning in closely to Blaise and Draco.

"Yes," Blaise nodded. "But what does that have to do with Seamus?"

"Let me finish," Pansy whined, holding her hand up in front of him to stop further questions. "Dean Thomas is dating Ginny Weasley, Ron Weasley is dating Hermione Granger, and Neville Longbottom has just started seeing Luna Lovegood from Ravenclaw…"

"So?" Blaise and Draco asked simultaneously as Pansy looked at them eagerly.

"So," she continued at their lack of understanding, "Finnigan and Potter are the only ones in their circle of friends who do not have partners."

"And…" Blaise egged her on when he still didn't quite see where this was going.

"And… Finnigan and Potter decided to make a pact stating they could only date if the other had a date as well, so they won't risk having one person in their dormitory not having someone and as a result feeling left out, lonely and awkward when hanging out in their group."

"You're kidding!" moaned Blaise, realising that he had a lot more work ahead of him. "Not only do I have to ask Seamus out but I have to find someone for Potter as well!"

"Are you not seeing the problem here, Blaise?" Pansy looked at him sceptically.

"Well, I've noticed that he's a little anti-social when it comes to dating," Blaise admitted. "Why is that?"

"He just hasn't been the same since he killed off Voldemort," Pansy observed. "I guess he's just sick of people only wanting to date him because of his fame."

"Well yeah, but I'm sure that there are lots of girls who would go out with Potter not just because he's famous," Blaise pondered uncertainly.

Pansy snorted in amusement. "Even if there were, he wouldn't go for them. Potter's gay."

"How do you know all this?!" Blaise stared at her incredulously.

Pansy simply shrugged in amusement. "It's a gift."

Blaise shook his head to overcome this new piece of information. "Anyway, I'm sure that there are plenty of guys who would date him for other reasons than his fame."

"Doubtful, very doubtful," Pansy disagreed. "And even if you found one, they'd have a hard time convincing Potter otherwise."

Blaise paused for a moment, deep in thought.

"So…" he considered carefully, "what I need to do is find someone that Potter knows isn't such a huge fan of his…"

"You think that you could find someone who hasn't been infatuated by Potter's fame?" Pansy blinked in disbelief.

Blaise grinned evilly, realisation dawning on him. He slowly turned and faced Draco, who had remained silent for most of the conversation but had been listening intently the whole time.

Draco looked at him confusedly for a second and then screeched when he realised what Blaise was obviously thinking.

"NO FUCKING WAY, BLAISE!" Draco shook his head so vigorously that the Great Hall seemed to spin a little bit for him. "THERE ISN'T ENOUGH MONEY IN GRINGOTTS FOR ME TO AGREE TO GO OUT WITH HIM!"

"Like you need any more money," Blaise stated. "Besides, you and Potter patched things up after he did Voldemort in."

"I would hardly call that patching things up!" Draco continued in hysterics. "He merely came up to me at the start of the year and requested that we both stop insulting each other!"

"Well, it's not like you're enemies anymore, though!" Blaise tried to convince his friend.

"Be that as it may," Draco admitted, "we still definitely can't be around each other armed."

"Well, you're not going to be armed, are you?" Blaise was practically pleading now, something that was both very unSlytherin-like and very unBlaise-like. "Please, Draco! Just one little dance with him at tomorrow night's dance! I'm desperate here!"

Draco sighed in exasperation. "You're not going to give up until I agree to do it, are you?"

"Nope," Blaise said, simply shaking his head once.

"Fine!" Draco huffed crossly, turning away from his friend in annoyance to pick up his school bag. "But I'm only going to do this once!"

And with that, he hastily climbed out of his seat and marched out of the Great Hall angrily.

"I can't believe that you just persuaded him into doing that," admired Pansy. "Do you really want to get into Finnigan's pants that bad?"

"More than you'll ever know, Pans," Blaise sighed enigmatically before he resumed staring at his favourite Gryffindor.

_Meanwhile, over at the Gryffindor table…_

"That Zabini is staring at you again, Seamus," Dean noticed as he looked up from his bowl of cornflakes.

"Well, maybe I'm just his type," Seamus replied eagerly, taking a good long look at the dark hair and eyes of said wizard as he started to get up from his seat.

"Where are you going?" Dean asked in confusion.

"Bathroom before class starts," Seamus stated honestly.

"No! Stay!" Dean pleaded mockingly.

"Why?" Seamus asked, confused.

"I want to see if he asks you out."

Everyone in the vicinity laughed at Dean's joke.

"Even if he did, I'd have to wait for my good friend Harry here." Seamus smiled encouragingly at Harry, who was sitting next to him, and gave him a friendly pat on the back. "Don't think that I've forgotten our Gryffindor pact."

Harry smiled weakly at this. He really wasn't thinking about going out with anyone anytime soon, as the whole school seemed to see right through him and only focus on his fame. He knew that the odds of him finding someone who saw more to him than his scar were very low. And he felt guilty that Seamus's love life had to suffer just because his did.

"Speaking of which," Ron spoke through a mouthful of food as usual, "have you two--"

"Ron!" Hermione scolded. "Stop talking with your mouth full!"

Ron swallowed his mouthful of food obediently, being careful not to roll eyes, in order to prevent his girlfriend's wrath. "--got dates for tomorrow night's dance?"

Harry pretended to drop his fork so that he could avoid answering the question while going to retrieve it from under the table. When he surfaced, fork in hand, he was thankful to see that Seamus had already started to answer the question.

"No," Seamus replied cheerily, but Harry knew that he was slightly disappointed. "But it doesn't matter, Harry and I can just hang out together while the rest of you lot snog."

Everyone laughed at this except for Harry. It was his fault that Seamus couldn't date anyone at the moment, and he knew that he couldn't live with that responsibility for much longer. He began to consider breaking off the pact, as his fellow Gryffindors returned to normal conversation. Being lonely and miserable on Hogsmeade weekends was a small price to pay in order to relieve the constant guilt he felt whenever the subject of dating was brought up.


	2. Chapter Two: Everybody needs somebody

Thanks to Sanguiyn my wonderful beta, who not only saves me from grammatical errors, but also dresses as a super hero when she does it.

**Disclaimer:**

Loosely based on '10 Things I hate about you', which was based on Shakespeare's 'Taming of the Shrew'.

You all know that I don't own the Harry Potter characters (JKR does). But if I did, something like this would happen to them...

Harry Potter had never been normal. Even before he was a wizard, people had treated him differently. When he was young he was an outcast. The other children never played with him and he had always been referred to as 'that strange Potter boy'. This made him somewhat as an individualist.

The moment he had discovered that he was a wizard, and a famous one at that, he became somewhat of a consumer product from constantly being in the public eye. After every newspaper article printed about him, Harry felt as though they were making a copy of him, slowly selling him off piece by piece.

His individuality was lost between a scar and a prophecy. And now, after the media uproar during Voldemort's death, he felt that he had none of himself left. He felt like a soup can that someone had picked up at a grocery store and now processed forever, leaving him doomed to spend the rest of his life sitting on a shelf, merely watching everybody else pair off and carry out normal lives.

Harry craved to be normal. To go a week without having anything printed about him in the papers. To have people not constantly staring at his scar. To be able to fall in love without complexities. To have someone love him in return.

People loved him in the sense that they admired him. They put him up on a pedestal and stared blankly at him in awe. Fans claimed to be in love with him, but Harry saw it for what it really was. They loved his scar. They loved his bravery. They loved his victory over Voldemort.

They didn't love him.

Harry yearned for someone who would love the simple more real things about him. Love his flaws, like the way he always left his wet towel on the floor after showering. Love his hands and the way they felt in theirs, despite his numerous blisters from Quidditch training. Love the way he looked first thing in the morning when he had just woken up. Love his laughter. Love his smile. Love his voice. Love his smell. Love his touch.

He yearned to love someone in return. Have someone to buy things for at Hogsmeade weekends, hold hands with at mealtimes and in between classes, and make out under the bleachers with all weekend. But it seemed like a lost cause.

That is why, the evening of the dance, Harry dressed himself half-heartedly. He emerged from the bathroom wearing a pair of casual baggy jeans and a simple t-shirt.

"You're not wearing that, are you, Harry?" Seamus asked in disbelief.

"Yeah." Harry looked down at himself self-consciously. "What's wrong with it?"

"You need to dress yourself up more!" Seamus proclaimed, and received eager agreement from his other dorm mates who were getting ready around them.

Seamus began rummaging through Harry's drawers and eventually stepped back clutching a pile of clothing. He handed it to Harry and pushed him back into the direction of the bathroom.

Inside the bathroom, Harry pulled his jeans on first, immediately realising why he hadn't worn these in a while. The denim was incredibly tight on him. He figured that there was no point in trying to change again, as Seamus seemed as determined as ever. He sighed audibly before putting on the shirt. It was a dark green colour that brought out his eyes very well. It clung to his body, showing the muscles that no one knew he had gained from all those years on the Quidditch pitch.

He sat down on the lid of the toilet in order to put on the stylish pair of shoes that Seamus had handed him. He didn't even bother looking at himself in the mirror before going back into his dormitory.

"Looking good, Harry," Seamus said, winking at him. "Let's start heading down to the Great Hall, the others have already left to meet up with their girls."

Harry decided that this was a good opportunity for him to discuss the pact with Seamus, seeing as they were alone.

"Seamus, I've been meaning to talk to you about something," Harry told Seamus cautiously as they climbed through the portrait hole.

"Fire away, mate." Seamus smiled at Harry, whilst stepping out of the portrait hole with a slight jump.

"Well," Harry began. He lowered his voice as they started walking down the corridor; it was crowded with other students heading down to the dance, and he did not want to be overheard. "I think that it would be a good idea if we called off the pact."

"Why on earth would you think that?" Seamus threw Harry a confused look, but continued walking nonetheless.

"It's just," Harry sighed, "it's not fair on you."

"What?" Seamus asked. "Of course it's fair. The fairest. The Snow White of fair. We're making sure that we're both not lonely or left out. We're looking out for each other!"

"I know that," Harry continued as they began filing down the stairs, "but I just can't see myself being with someone, and I know that you want to start dating seriously. It's not fair that your love life has to suffer just because I can't find someone."

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Harry." Seamus gave him an encouraging pat on the back. "There is someone out there for you. You just have to give these things time."

Harry nodded glumly, still not convinced. "Then why don't we break it off just for tonight, so then you can at least have a good time dancing with someone else, instead of being forced to hang around me."

"Listen, Harry," Seamus said suddenly, becoming uncharacteristically serious. Harry immediately noticed a change in the tone of Seamus's usually cheery and energetic voice. "I know that it's hard for you to keep an open heart. Ever since Voldemort's death you've feared that people will always see you as the archetypical branded hero, and only want you for your fame. But don't go ruling everyone out just yet. Don't you think that you need somebody? Everybody needs somebody; that goes for heroes too."

"It's just so hard," Harry complained.

"I know that it's not easy to find someone," Seamus reasoned. "It's hard for all of us. You're not the only one."

"It's easier for everyone else than it is for me," Harry contradicted. "At this rate, I'll never have anybody. I might as well give up now."

"You can give up for now, Harry," Seamus sympathized, "but sooner or later you'll need someone."

"I need someone now," Harry murmured, more to himself than to Seamus.

"I know," agreed Seamus. "But there is someone out there who is capable of loving you for you, Harry. And I'm going to help you find them. I want to make the sacrifice you made for the whole wizarding world worthwhile."

"How?" Harry asked disbelievingly.

"Well," Seamus decided, "we keep the pact, including for tonight. And if someone asks one of us to dance, we have to accept, but we also have to make sure we find the other someone to dance with. And in the meantime we can just hang out."

"I guess that wouldn't do me any harm," Harry agreed, although he really didn't feel up to dancing with anyone tonight. He knew that if they asked him to dance, it would purely be based on the fact that he had recently saved the world from evil, not because they felt a true connection to him. In fact, the thought of dancing meaninglessly with someone made him feel quite nauseous.

He knew that he wouldn't get what he wanted out of any of these relationships. But to please Seamus, he would try, and knew sadly that he had a duty to his friend and had to soon accept one of the numerous offers to date that came his way. He ached for a love that burned like fire and moonlight, but that seemed impossible to achieve right now. So all he could do, as he and Seamus entered through the doors of the Great Hall, was hope that no one asked either of them for a dance.


	3. Chapter Three: Burn

Thanks to Sanguiyn my wonderful beta, who not only saves me from grammatical errors, but also dresses as a super hero when she does it.

**Disclaimer:**

Loosely based on '10 Things I hate about you', which was based on Shakespeare's 'Taming of the Shrew'.

You all know that I don't own the Harry Potter characters (JKR does). But if I did, something like this would happen to them...

Draco stepped reluctantly into the Great Hall with a huge frown on his face. He couldn't believe that he'd let Blaise talk him into asking Harry Potter for a dance. Blaise, on the other hand, was standing next to him gleefully, eagerly looking around for Seamus. He grabbed Draco's arm and forcefully pulled him further into the Great Hall.

"There he is," Blaise practically squealed in delight, pointing over to the far side of the room where Seamus was leaning against a wall, casually talking to Potter.

Draco didn't bother looking over to where Blaise had pointed. He merely just rolled his eyes and took after Blaise, who had started walking over towards them quickly without an ounce of hesitation.

Harry saw Blaise Zabini heading towards them before Seamus did. Remembering Blaise gazing at Seamus the other morning at breakfast, he immediately felt his stomach hit the floor. He wasn't ready to dance with someone yet. In fact, all he wanted to do was run back up to his dormitory and hide under the covers of his bed.

Seamus didn't notice Blaise's presence until he was directly in front of them.

"Care to dance, Seamus?" Blaise asked in a cavalier manner, gesturing to the dance floor and holding out his hand.

"That," Seamus replied, trying and failing to hide his delight, "all depends on if you can find someone to dance with Harry."

Harry was glad that the Great Hall was dimly lit, as a large blush had begun to creep onto his cheeks.

"As a matter of fact, I can find someone," Blaise grinned, pointing towards the crowd in front of them.

Seamus and Harry looked to were Blaise was pointing, and when Harry saw the unmistakable blonde head of Draco Malfoy weaving his way through the crowd with a scowl on his face, his jaw dropped.

His first reaction was that there was no way he could ever possibly dance with Malfoy, but then he remembered his promise with Seamus, and knew that deep down he didn't have the heart to disappoint his house mate.

Draco's scowl completely dropped off his face the second he eventually brought himself to look at Harry. "Fuck," he moaned under his breath, his eyes discreetly raking over Harry's body.

Draco Malfoy hated the way that people stared in astonishment at Potter, pointing at his scar and remarking on how much it defined him as a person.

The scar meant nothing to Draco. To him it was simply a mark on Potter's forehead that had no relevance whatsoever, especially since Voldemort was now gone.

Draco pretended that he loathed Potter being praised so much because he didn't like him; they had been after all renowned enemies up until this year. But the real reason was because he felt that there were far more admirable qualities that could be noted in the raven-haired Gryffindor.

Draco loved these things about Harry as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret. But he didn't like to feel things that were uncomfortable, emotional or in any way real, so he forcibly ignored these thoughts.

As Harry stood in front of him however, with his nervous smile spreading across his face and his unavoidable green eyes gleaming anxiously behind his glasses, Draco couldn't help but melt a little bit.

"How about it, Potter?" Draco asked as indifferently as he could, recovering from his initial shock and holding out his hand for him to take.

"S-Sure," Harry stuttered, not being about to manage to say anything else. Draco dragged him away from grinning Seamus and Blaise to the middle of the dance floor.

Harry didn't feel confident dancing at all, and was moving stiffly, not having much experience with the type of dancing that was happening around him. He highly doubted that he would ever be able to achieve the bumping and grinding actions of his fellow class mates.

Draco couldn't help but think how adorable Harry looked when he was nervous, so, without a second thought, he pressed himself up against Harry's back and rested his chin on his shoulder. Harry jumped a little at the sudden contact, but Draco merely placed his hands onto Harry's hips in order to keep him close.

"Loosen up, Potter," Draco whispered into Harry's ear, beginning to move Harry's hips back and forth in time with his own. "Just follow me now."

At first these actions made Harry just feel hot. But then it began to burn, and it burned from the inside. As Draco's hands wandered across his hips and sides, it was as though he was sizzling away Harry's flesh. It felt like Draco's hands had melted right into Harry's skin.

Harry remembered reading somewhere that being touched intimately by someone made you feel like you were in the midst of a happy dream, where everything seemed serene and placid; that the other person's caresses were like being stroked by a thousand soft feathers.

He couldn't help but think how wrong that was. When Draco touched him, he felt fire. Wherever Draco placed his hands, they would scorch his skin and leave burn marks. This burning sensation was so strong that Harry could still feel Draco's hands on the spot that Draco had touched ages after he had moved his hands elsewhere on his body. And he knew that when this moment ended and Draco stopped touching him, he would still be able to feel Draco's hands on him, as though they never left.

Draco closed his eyes as he began concentrating on the sensation that came with being pressed against Harry. He was discovering even more things that he could admire about the Gryffindor. The small of his back. The nape of his neck. The softness of his skin.

The second he touched Harry's skin, he couldn't take it. He wished the song would never end so that he wouldn't have to stop touching Harry. He moved gracefully against Harry, enjoying having his crotch pushed against Harry's arse as they ground against each other. Slowly, they began to move a little more. And with each movement, Harry began to press back against him more firmly.

After a particularly hard thrust, Draco accidentally let out a contented sigh in Harry's ear. This caused Harry to shiver and turn his head to look back at Draco. In doing this, Harry's nose gently brushed Draco's cheek.

It was Draco's turn to shiver, and he grasped Harry's hip and turned him around so they were dancing face to face, grinding against each other.

The feeling of Harry's chest pressed against his was almost too much for Draco, and he growled in response, his hands leaving Harry's hips completely to run up Harry's muscular back. They came to rest on Harry's firm, round arse. He gave the cheeks a gentle squeeze.

Harry slid his hands under Draco's shirt, running his fingers over the hard muscles and smooth skin of Draco's stomach, causing the blonde to gasp and tighten his hold on Harry's arse. They were now so close that Harry's hands, which had now reached around to Draco's back and were running up and down his spine, may as well have been Draco's own hands. Harry's hips, moving fluidly against Draco's, felt like they were now parts of Draco's body. And the strangled moan that escaped Harry's lips felt like it had just fallen out of Draco's mouth.

Draco gradually began to move one of his hands off Harry's backside. He slowly trailed it around to Harry's hip, up his chest and neck, and eventually came to rest on Harry's cheek. He caressed it lightly for a few moments, delighting in the way Harry's breathing became harder and blew against his own mouth. The feeling of Harry's breath ghosting against his lips was it for Draco. He eyed Harry's soft, parted lips wantonly, craving their feel against his own. His eyes slid shut and his hand on Harry's arse squeezed even tighter, pushing Harry closer.

Their bodies were like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that were never meant to fit.

Light and Dark.

Good and Evil.

Gryffindor and Slytherin.

But the pieces were now bending with each single beat of the music, slowly beginning to fit together as though they had always been made for it.

Harry had no objections to this, allowing his own eyes to flutter closed, eagerly awaiting Draco's lips to claim as his own as their bodies slowly began to merge closer and closer together.

He was just beginning to wonder whether he should just lean forward and catch Draco's lips in his own in order to speed the whole process up when everything suddenly came crashing down around them.

The music abruptly paused, filling the Great Hall with silence as the DJ changed records and the other students hushed, holding their breaths, eagerly anticipating the next song. The ringing of this empty sound was deafening to Harry and Draco. It made them both realise what was taking place between them.

Their minds slowly began to catch up with their bodies and they realised that they should stop. Their eyes opened in unison, and all the spotlights above the dance floor streamed back into their line of vision. They both stared incredulously at each other, as though they were seeing through their eyes for the first time.

With great difficulty they tore themselves apart, breathing hard.

Harry had no idea how he felt about the things that he had just done. His skin was still bubbling and bursting from Draco's touch even though Draco's hands were nowhere near his body anymore. He tried to say something to Draco, but forming a coherent sentence right now was a foreign task. All he could think was 'turn around and run'.

Draco was at a loss for words as well. He was torn between insulting Potter or apologizing to him, telling him that it was all a big mistake and that they should just forget that it ever happened. He was just about to open his mouth, to say something he still wasn't quite sure of when the next song started. At this sudden burst of loud noise, Harry abruptly turned on his heel and began fleeing the Great Hall, frantically pushing himself past all the bodies that had resumed their carefree dancing.


	4. Chapter Four: As if you have a choice

Thanks to Sanguiyn my wonderful beta, who not only saves me from grammatical errors, but also dresses as a super hero when she does it.

**Disclaimer:**

Loosely based on '10 Things I hate about you', which was based on Shakespeare's 'Taming of the Shrew'.

You all know that I don't own the Harry Potter characters (JKR does). But if I did, something like this would happen to them...

There was no nicer way to put it. Draco Malfoy was a slut, and a little bit proud of it in fact. But aside from the fact that he was a man-whore who had slept with most of the gay population of Hogwarts, he actually was quite charming company (when he was not in a foul mood).

As his close friend, Blaise figured that Draco would easily give up his multiple shags to remain exclusive to just one person, if the right person came along. He never actually mentioned this to Draco though, as Draco always insistently claimed that he liked casual fucking and wouldn't know what a real relationship was if it ran up and slapped him on the bum. But Blaise supposed that the real reason for him never being in a serious relationship before was that no one had ever been important enough for him to justify commitment on any level.

Sex was like alcohol for Draco; it went together perfectly with having a good time, which was the main reason why he hadn't enjoyed last night one bit. School dances would usually go like this: immediately find someone to dance suggestively with, slam them against a wall and snog them insistently, haul them off to the bathroom, bend them over a toilet in one of the stalls and fuck them frantically. Right after, retreat from the bathroom to move on to next conquest. Repeat from step one.

But last night was different for many reasons. Firstly, he hadn't fucked anyone. Secondly, he only danced with one person. And finally, after his dance with Potter he hadn't attempted to move on to anybody else, but instead walked purposefully out of the Great Hall and headed straight for his dormitory for some much needed cooling down.

He awoke the following morning to the sound of Blaise's enthusiastic voice.

"Morning, Draco!"

"What time is it?" Draco asked, sitting up in bed and squinting groggily across the room.

"It's eleven o'clock," Blaise said happily, coming over to Draco's bed and placing a plate of toast onto Draco's bedside table. "You missed breakfast, so I brought you up some toast."

"Okay, Blaise," Draco replied, peering warily at the pile of toast. "What do you want?"

"What on earth is that supposed to mean?" Blaise asked, feigning innocence. "Can't I bring my friend some toast when he misses breakfast without getting the third degree?"

"Who are you and what have you done to my best friend?" Draco asked, confused. "You're never in a good mood in the morning."

Blaise simply smirked at him before sitting down on Draco's bed.

"Merlin!" Draco stammered in horror. "You fucked Finnigan! That's why you're so uncharacteristically cheery this morning!"

"For your information, I did not have sex with Seamus last night," Blaise answered truthfully, though the sandy-haired Gryffindor was the sole reason for his abnormally good mood. They had spent the whole night dancing harmlessly together. Even though Blaise would have liked to have taken things further with his new crush, he found himself enjoying every moment he spent with Seamus, despite the lack of lustful intimacy. He was after all looking for a serious relationship, and that needed more innocent actions at first. The more physical stuff could wait… for a little while at least.

Draco chewed a piece of toast slowly and swallowed, studying his best friend carefully. "Then if you didn't bring me breakfast out of happiness from bedding Seamus, then you must want something from me."

Blaise merely smiled innocently at Draco.

"Out with it, Zabini!" Draco demanded, after swallowing the last bite of his piece of toast.

"Fine," Blaise relented, knowing that he would have to tell Draco eventually. "I made plans to study with Seamus in the library tonight, so you have to come too and keep Potter company."

"What?!" Draco exploded, his arms flailing in anger, upending the plate of toast on his beside table and causing it to fall onto the floor. "I do not! Going to the library does not count as a date!"

"Well no, but studying is not all that I hope to be doing with Seamus tonight. Afterwards we might--"

"Ew! Blaise, shut your face! I do not want to hear that, especially after I've just woken up! And I definitely don't want to spend my Saturday night in the library babysitting Potter again while you and Finnigan snog behind a bookshelf!"

"Don't pretend you didn't enjoy dancing with Potter last night, Draco. You almost snogged him!" Blaise accused.

"I did not!" Draco denied, but couldn't prevent the blush that spread over his cheeks after Blaise's statement. While dancing with Potter had no doubt turned him on, there was no way he was about to admit that to himself or to anyone else for that matter.

"Don't try lying to me, Draco Malfoy, I saw you."

"Didn't Finnigan fondle you enough last night, Blaise?" Draco's panicked expression immediately turned into a smirk. "He mustn't have, seeing as you had nothing better to do than watch Potter and me dance."

"For your information, Seamus fondled me plenty," Blaise huffed. "We just decided to check up on you two for a little bit. You know, make sure you two didn't start fighting or something. Turns out we had nothing to worry about, because you and Potter were getting on well. Very well indeed."

"Oh shut up, nothing really happened! We were just dancing like everyone else," Draco snapped, leaning over the bed to pick the plate and toast up off the floor.

"Draco, you got more action than me!"

"You mean you and Seamus didn't snog?" Draco asked, thinking, 'Well I always get more action than you Blaise'.

"No," Blaise answered disappointingly. "Please come to the library tonight, Draco; I need to see Seamus again!"

"Fine, I'll go," Draco sighed irritably. He really didn't have any other choice. Blaise was his best friend, so he had a duty to help him. "But if you can't keep it in your pants and end up sneaking off with Finnigan while we're studying, I'll hex it off."


	5. Chapter Five: Run for your life

Thanks to Sanguiyn my wonderful beta, who not only saves me from grammatical errors, but also dresses as a super hero when she does it.

**Disclaimer:**

Loosely based on '10 Things I hate about you', which was based on Shakespeare's 'Taming of the Shrew'.

Gilmore Girls and How I met your mother quotes alert in this chapter too. ;-)

You all know that I don't own the Harry Potter characters (JKR does). But if I did, something like this would happen to them...

Harry Potter seemed to spend most of his time running down the corridors of Hogwarts castle. Usually, his headlong rushes were caused from being late for class or detention, or trying to hide from Filch on his occasional night-time wanderings. But last night, it had been completely different. Last night, he'd been truly terrified.

He could handle the anger of his teachers for being late, and he could live through a scolding from Filch. What he couldn't handle was the burning that he'd still felt on his skin from Draco's touch as he'd fled the Great Hall.

He had run directly to his dormitory, not stopping until he'd reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, his face a brilliant shade of red, his glasses slightly askew, and his hair as messy as ever.

When the Fat Lady had asked him what was wrong, he had merely patted the top of his hair in a futile attempt to get it to lie flat, and panted out the password.

Even though the common room had been completely empty, all the students still enjoying the dance, he'd headed straight for his dormitory, taking the stairs four at a time.

He'd sprinted into the bathroom and frantically tried to undress without falling all over the place. This had proved to be quite difficult, his jeans being so tight they were practically moulded to his skin.

Once rid of all clothing, he had stumbled into the shower, immediately grabbing hold of the cold water tap and turning it on full blast.

He had snatched a bar of soap up hastily, beginning to scrub himself all over in attempt to remove the feeling of Draco's touch still burning his skin.

It had been of no use.

No matter how hard he'd scrubbed, the bubbling and bursting had refused to cease. Under the icy water, the fire had even reached his bones as well, causing him to shake uncontrollably and allowing the bar of soap to slip from his quivering fingers.

After this, he had given up, emerged from the shower, shivering, and quickly got dressed into his pyjamas.

He'd collapsed on his four-poster and drawn his bed hangings closed around him, not wanting to be disturbed by his dorm mates when they returned. He had buried himself under his covers, his head sinking into the pillows, accepting that the bubbling and bursting of his skin wasn't going to end.

At first, he had been disgusted with himself by what he had done with Malfoy on the dance floor, but, lying in bed, he'd started to remember how good it had actually felt to be held by someone the way Malfoy had held him. That close to Malfoy, he had felt warm, comfortable and safe.

Staring up at his canopy, he hadn't been able to shake off the feeling that he was still close to Malfoy.

So close that he'd felt Draco's eyes shut as he himself had eventually fallen into an uneasy, troubled sleep.

It was now morning and Harry was sitting at the Gryffindor table, poking absentmindedly at the liberal amount of scrambled eggs that Hermione had piled onto his plate, insisting that he ate something, even after he had repeatedly told her he wasn't hungry.

"So, Harry, is Malfoy a good kisser?" Dean teased, causing Harry to snap his head up from gazing incessantly at his plate.

"What?!" Harry shrieked. "How am I supposed to know something like that?"

"Seamus said that you snogged Malfoy while you were dancing with him last night." Dean smirked, gesturing over to Seamus.

"Almost!" Seamus corrected. "I said he almost snogged Malfoy at the dance."

"You saw us!" Harry gawked at Seamus, going bright red from embarrassment.

"Well… yeah," admitted Seamus. "Blaise and I just wanted to check that you weren't attempting to strangle each other or anything. I must say what we saw was a vast improvement from what you and Malfoy usually do together."

"Oh god," Harry moaned, dropping his fork and burying his face in his hands. "I'm so embarrassed."

"Don't be embarrassed! This is great!" Seamus enthused, thumping Harry happily on the back.

"Clearly you and I differ very much on our perception of the word 'great'," Harry mumbled from his hands. "I almost snogged Malfoy!"

"Harry, as embarrassed and regretful as you are about what happened last night, I think that it did you a world of good," Seamus said, suddenly serious. It was just like the night before when they were heading down towards the Great Hall. Harry removed his head from his hands and stared at the Irish boy warily.

"Good?!" Harry panicked. "How could me almost snogging my arch-nemesis of six years possibly be considered as good?!"

"Well, I've never seen you let go like that before, nor have you ever looked so happy and relaxed since Voldemort's death." Seamus had made a valid point. Harry's friends had been desperately trying for months to get him to loosen up, and yet a moment in Draco Malfoy's arms was all it took.

"I don't think it's the fact that it's Malfoy that's bothering you, Harry. I think what's scaring you the most is that you let your guard down for a minute there, and actually had an enjoyable time," Hermione piped up, reaching over and shovelling pieces of bacon onto Harry's plate. "If you don't want any scrambled eggs, eat some bacon; you can't skip breakfast!" she added in a motherly tone that could match Mrs Weasley's.

"You need to forget about the past, Harry," Ron began, taking the plate of bacon after Hermione, and piling some more pieces onto his plate.

"You've had enough bacon, Ron!" Hermione scolded, snatching the plate from Ron's grasp. "I'm surprised you can still eat at this point, especially after all those sausages you just ate!"

"There's still room," Ron replied, shoving a piece of bacon in his mouth to further prove his statement. "And if there isn't room, we'll add on. I know a good contractor."

Hermione huffed in response, placing the plate of bacon away from Ron's reach.

"Anyway, as I was saying," Ron continued, happily tucking into another piece of bacon, "things have changed. Voldemort's not alive; he's dead. Malfoy isn't your enemy; he's just someone you had a good time with at a dance. And most importantly, the fate of the wizarding world is not your responsibility anymore. It's time for you to take your life back."

Harry had to admit that Ron had also made a very accurate point, even though he had made it with a mouthful of bacon. Things were different now, especially where he and Malfoy were concerned.

"Exactly, Ron," Seamus agreed. "Harry, you gave up your life for the sake of our lives for such a long time, for pretty much your whole life even. But now, you don't have a duty anymore. You need to take your life back and start living. You don't have to please anyone anymore but yourself."

"I suppose you're right," Harry sighed, beginning to nibble at a small piece of bacon. "But I think that it's best that I steer clear of Malfoy from now on. As good as last night was, I don't think I could look at him in the eye ever again."

"Er… Harry," Seamus said gingerly, "Blaise and I have arranged to meet up in the library tonight, to do some studying."

"You mean you're not going to date him? You're just going to be friends?" Harry asked, remembering the way they had been drooling over each other the previous night.

"Well, Harry, the thing is, tonight is sort of… kind of… like a date." Seamus bit his lip, choosing his words very carefully. "So you and Malfoy will have to come along too."

Harry stared blankly at Seamus for a few moments before speaking. "I'm just going to go back to bed," he slowly began, standing up then heading for the exit, "because my head is about to explode and I don't want it to go over everyone's waffles."


	6. Chapter Six: Distraction

Thanks to Sanguiyn my wonderful beta, who not only saves me from grammatical errors, but also dresses as a super hero when she does it.

**Disclaimer:**

Loosely based on '10 Things I hate about you', which was based on Shakespeare's 'Taming of the Shrew'.

Gilmore Girls quote alert in this chapter too. ;-)

You all know that I don't own the Harry Potter characters (JKR does). But if I did, something like this would happen to them...

"If you and Finnigan sneak off and start shagging somewhere, I will hex you," Draco warned Blaise for the hundredth time that day.

"Really, Draco?" Blaise replied sarcastically, not taking his eyes away from the library entrance, eagerly anticipating the arrival of Seamus and Harry. "Because I didn't hear it the first ninety-nine times you said it."

"We both know that you have a hard time keeping it in your pants," Draco reminded him. He was sitting across from Blaise, who was facing the main doorway.

Blaise's eyes suddenly lit up and Draco knew it meant that Seamus and Harry had arrived. "No pun intended there, hey Draco?" Blaise giggled before grinning widely at the approaching Gryffindors.

Draco simply pretended that he hadn't noticed their arrival and continued working on his Potions assignment.

"Nice to see you again, Blaise," Seamus purred before turning to Draco. "How's it going, Malfoy?"

"Evening, Finnigan," Draco answered disinterestedly, not bothering to look up from is schoolwork, "Potter."

"Hi," Harry muttered, hesitantly pulling out the empty chair next to Draco and sitting down.

"And a fine evening it is, at that," Seamus remarked, sending a slow, sexy smile to Blaise as he went over to his side of the table and sat down next to him. One could practically see the sparks fly.

Draco briefly looked up at Blaise and caught his eye, sending him another scowl to warn him again. Blaise merely smiled evilly at him before opening his Transfiguration textbook.

After an hour of silent individual study, Blaise felt Seamus nudge him in the ribs. He looked up at him expectantly, which only resulted in him tapping him harder. Blaise took the hint and looked down to see that Seamus was holding a crumpled ball of paper in the hand that he had used to poke him.

Blaise discreetly took the paper from Seamus's hand and carefully smoothed it out under the table.

The note was short:

_I want to be closer to you. Distract Malfoy and Harry._

Blaise grinned at Seamus, taking a good long look at him: sandy hair, bright blue lustful eyes, killer body. His grin became rather predatory; he wanted to be closer to Seamus too.

"Hey, Draco," he said casually turning to his friend, "why don't you quiz Potter for History of Magic?"

Draco glared angrily at Blaise whereas Harry looked up from his History of Magic textbook, looking startled.

"Why, Blaise," Draco practically hissed, snatching the textbook from under Harry's nose so forcefully he nearly smacked him in the face with it, "that's an absolutely superb idea."

Blaise was shocked, yet relieved at his friend's immediate co-operation.

"The Goblin Rebellion — started?" he heard Draco snap at Harry before his attention was diverted back to Seamus.

"Thank you," Seamus whispered in his ear, making him flush darkly at the hot breath on his skin. "I knew if we didn't distract them they would see what we're getting up to and stop all our fun."

"No… problem," Blaise whispered back. Images of what exactly Seamus intended on 'getting up to' flashed through his mind, causing him to blush further and awakening a vital body part.

"1590."

"Finished?"

"1649." Blaise barely registered Harry and Draco's voices, as Seamus had just slithered his hand under the table and squeezed his thigh.

"No, 1623 — close."

"How is 1623 close?"

"You got the '16' part right."

"I was off by twenty-six years."

"Well anything under fifty years is close."

"What kind of rule is that?"

"I'm running the study session here. Okay. The Giant War?"

Throughout Harry and Draco's conversation Seamus's hand had been making its way slowly to Blaise's hip under his t-shirt, and was now dangerously close to hooking into the waist band of his trousers.

"1591."

"No."

Seamus ran a hand gently over the obvious bulge in Blaise's trousers, making it twitch.

Blaise's eyes went wide as he tried to cover up his moan by taking in a sharp breath and whispering, "Too far! What if they catch us?"

"Shush, they won't know anything if you stay quiet." Seamus leaned over and ran his tongue over the outer shell of Blaise's ear.

Blaise nervously looked over to Draco and Harry; they didn't seem to have noticed anything.

"1593."

"No."

When Blaise went to turn his attention back to Seamus, his seat was empty. He looked around confusedly, wondering where the Irish boy had gotten to.

Seamus's whereabouts was revealed when he felt someone start to unbutton and unzip his trousers. He gripped the side of his seat and looked down to see that Seamus had slid down to the floor between his legs, and managed to get his trousers open enough to free his almost hard erection. Boy, was he glad that he decided to go commando today! It would make things from this point onwards a whole lot easier.

"Ah…" Blaise groaned, forgetting to keep his voice down as he felt Seamus's warm, wet mouth engulf half of his cock and his hand wrap around the rest. But luckily, his moan was covered by Harry's voice.

"1596."

"No. Try again."

Blaise tightened the grip on his seat and bit his lip to keep himself from moaning out loud again, as Seamus let his erection fall from his mouth. Before he could protest to this sudden lack of contact, Seamus's hand took its place, pumping it at a rapid pace.

"1586."

"Finally. Took you long enough."

Blaise could no longer hear any of Harry and Draco's conversation; he was too busy focusing on Seamus, who was continuing his fast pace on his cock without restraint. Soon he could feel a familiar feeling building in his stomach. He was so close…

Suddenly the lights went off and the library darkened. Madame Pince's cold voice pierced the silent air.

"The library is now closed. Please pack up your possessions quickly and go back to your dormitories."

Seamus looked up at Blaise, noting his flustered look. He shrugged apologetically and quickly scrambled to his feet before Harry and Draco could notice where he was.

"Well, I guess our study session is over," Seamus said, pulling Blaise out of his chair with a tug on his arm.

"Fucking librarian," Blaise cursed under his breath, doing up his trousers.


	7. Chapter Seven: Change of heart

Thanks to Sanguiyn my wonderful beta, who not only saves me from grammatical errors, but also dresses as a super hero when she does it.

**Disclaimer:**

Loosely based on '10 Things I hate about you', which was based on Shakespeare's 'Taming of the Shrew'.

You all know that I don't own the Harry Potter characters (JKR does). But if I did, something like this would happen to them...

"Well, that was an absolute waste of my precious time," Draco growled after he and Blaise had bid farewell to the Gryffindors and turned down the staircase leading towards the dungeons.

Blaise made a strangled noise in response, grasping the banister for support and wincing as he sidestepped uncomfortably down the stairs.

When he noticed the way Blaise was hunching over and squeezing his eyes shut, Draco stopped walking. "Blaise, are you alright?" he asked concernedly. "Do you need me to take you to the hospital wing?"

Blaise opened his eyes to see Draco's worried expression and the comforting hand that he had just placed on his arm. Draco was never one to show his feelings publicly. As a child, he'd been taught that emotion showed weakness and that opening himself up to people would usually mean opening himself up to going a little crazy. And craziness was definitely not a commendable attribute as far as the Malfoy family name was concerned. Therefore, it was much easier for him to be alone, and simply have meaningless sexual trysts whenever he felt like it.

On the outside, Draco always appeared to be a bit cold about most things, especially love. In actual fact however, Draco had an air of warmth about him. Underneath his practiced nonchalant tone and sour demeanour, Draco was a good person. But only Blaise got to see his caring and considerate side.

To Blaise, Draco was kind and reliable. He always offered to help him with his Potions homework, bought loads of expensive things for him on his birthday, always managed to make him laugh when he was upset, and helped him whenever he was in need.

"I-I'm fine, Draco," Blaise managed to gasp out, pulling his arm out of Draco's hold. He knew that Draco was concerned for him because he thought he was sick, but he also knew that Draco's anxiety would immediately change to anger when he found out the real reason for Blaise's limp.

"You're not fine," Draco insisted. "Something is obviously wrong. You're walking funny, something is clearly hurting--" Realisation dawned on Draco's face and his gaze immediately travelled south to Blaise nether regions. His mouth dropped open and he squeaked in horror.

"I'm going to hex you, you wanker!"

"Out of fairness, you only said that you would hex me if we snuck off behind a book self," Blaise said with a shrug. "We didn't go anywhere."

"No! Instead, you decided to get each other off right in front of me!"

"You needn't worry because Seamus didn't get to finish what he started, hence the limp!"

"Doing it when I'm right in front of you is way worse than sneaking off!"

"We made sure that you were busy."

"Oh yes," Draco drawled sarcastically, "shoving a History of Magic textbook under my nose really did the trick. What if I had looked away from Potter and seen you?"

"It seemed unlikely," Blaise smirked. "You couldn't take your eyes off Potter."

"How dare you! I did not, for one second, enjoy spending time with that scrawny, four-eyed git!"

"Well, if you weren't so focused on Potter, what else distracted you from noticing what Seamus and I were up to?"

"You bastard! Not only did you fool around with Seamus while I was right in front of you, but now you're accusing me of being interested in Potter!"

"You almost snogged him last night!"

"Almost! That doesn't mean anything!"

"It means that you must have wanted to if you got so close to doing it!"

"Listen, Blaise! Stop trying to change the subject! The fact of the matter is that you dragged me along to the library to baby-sit Potter, just so you could get a hand job from Finnigan!"

"Do you think that I actually enjoyed having you and Potter there with us? Of course I didn't! I hated it! I just want to spend time alone with Seamus, but I can't because Potter is incapable of any human interaction whatsoever and doesn't trust anyone outside his Gryffindor circle!"

Blaise was at the end of his tether. Craftiness and Slytherin heritage be damned. Pansy was right. It was never going to happen. Draco couldn't stand being in the same room as Potter, and Potter couldn't even look Draco properly in the eye.

Blaise wanted to be with Seamus badly, but it seemed like a lost cause. Right now, he just felt like packing it in.

Plus, it really wasn't fair on Draco. Even though Blaise had an inkling that Draco was attracted to Potter, and he himself had a yearning for Draco to settle down with someone, it still wasn't what Draco wanted. Draco always went out of his way to prove that he should be a good arm swinging length away from Potter at all times, and Blaise didn't have the right to force him to act otherwise.

Yes, Blaise may have been crafty, Slytherin, gay, horny and picky, but he, like Draco, was a caring and loyal friend when it came down to it all.

"I'm sorry for doing this to you, Draco. I shouldn't have forced you to spend time with Potter, especially considering your history together," Blaise apologised weakly, as he began to hobble down the stairs. "It was unfair on you. I'll just forget about Seamus."

"You really want Seamus, don't you, Blaise?" Draco remained at the top of the stairs, watching his friend's retreating back pensively. "You want to be with him. You want to commit to him. Personally, I can't understand why you would want to commit to someone, but you seem to really care for him."

"Well, that's pointless now. I'll never be able to be with him." Blaise turned around and looked up at his friend dejectedly.

"I can't believe that you're giving up this easily!" Draco exclaimed in disbelief. For all the years Draco had been friends with him, Blaise had always behaved like the typical Slytherin: plotting, manipulating and doing whatever it took to get his way.

"Believe it."

"Stop right there, Blaise Zabini. You are many things, but you are not a quitter. You're a Slytherin! You're cunning! You always get what you want!"

"Not this time. Potter won't let anyone near him, which means that I can't go anywhere near Seamus."

"He let me near him."

"But Draco, you said that you didn't want a serious relationship."

"I like fucking. I'm not ashamed of that, Blaise. I just fuck a lot of people because I can and I have no commitments or responsibilities." Draco began to walk down the rest of the staircase to join his friend at the bottom. "But now I realise that I do have a commitment, and it is to you as your best friend. So, if it's Seamus you want, then I'll help you get him."

"But you don't even like Potter. How are you going to stand dating him? You do realise that dating actually involves being around the person that you're going out with," Blaise reminded Draco, shocked at his sudden change of heart.

"Well, maybe just being seen with the Saviour of the Wizarding World will be enough to keep me happy. Besides, do you know how many blokes I could get if I bedded Harry Potter?"

"But that's another thing, Draco. You can't sleep with other people while you're dating him."

"I know that. I mean for when after I break up with him."

"But if you break up with him, Seamus and I still won't be able to go out. What about the pact?"

"Listen, what we need is a plan. A crafty, devious, Slytherin-style plan that will benefit us both."

"Okay then," Blaise agreed. "But before we scheme, I'm going to have to take a cold shower… a _really_ cold shower."


	8. Chapter Eight: Scheming Slytherins

Thanks to Sanguiyn my wonderful beta, who not only saves me from grammatical errors, but also dresses as a super hero when she does it.

**Disclaimer:**

Loosely based on '10 Things I hate about you', which was based on Shakespeare's 'Taming of the Shrew'.

You all know that I don't own the Harry Potter characters (JKR does). But if I did, something like this would happen to them...

Draco Malfoy loved everyday at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. His appearance was always sure to immediately generate downright ogling from his peers. Unfortunately for Draco, the one boy he wanted most to notice him paid him no attention at all.

Harry Potter's appearance also generated some downright ogling from the Hogwarts student body. He couldn't walk across Gryffindor common room without having his classmates stare blatantly at his scar. It was no secret that he despised this attention. He walked the castle corridors sandwiched in between Ron and Hermione, his head held down, never looking at his admirers in the eye.

In fact, Harry rarely paid anyone much attention. Many students had tried, but to no avail. So surely, the person to gain his attention would be the envy of the entire school. Draco needed attention to feel good about himself and he was determined to get it.

Harry was no easy conquest. It wasn't that he had given up on love, not at all. Harry's life was a difficult, bumpy journey, and he knew that it would be much better travelled with a companion by his side.

He was used to waiting. As a child, he had waited in his cupboard under the stairs, for someone to find him and take him away from the Dursleys. As a first year at Hogwarts, he had nervously looked at the black inside of the Sorting Hat, waiting to be Sorted into a house, as it deliberated between Slytherin and Gryffindor. And now, as a young man, he was waiting for someone to catch his eye.

He was also used to heartbreak. When he'd watched Sirius sink backwards through the ragged veil hanging from the arch in the Department of Mysteries, somehow he'd known there would be much more of it in store for him. But what he didn't know was that his further, pending heartbreak would cause the heartbreak of others.

"So how should I ask Potter out?"

"Well," said Blaise, twirling a quill in his hand victoriously after he had finished scribbling something down on a piece of parchment, "give this to Seamus tomorrow night at dinner."

"What?" Draco exclaimed, ripping the parchment from Blaise's outstretched hand. "I'm the mastermind in this plan, not your measly messenger-boy!"

"You're i half /i the mastermind. Besides, when you go, it will give you a chance to flirt with Potter."

"Fine. What did you write in here anyway?"

"It's a note telling Seamus to bring Potter to the Astronomy Tower at eight o'clock tomorrow night."

"What if Potter doesn't agree to come? He didn't look too happy about having to meet us in the library tonight."

"I also wrote that Seamus shouldn't tell him that he is meeting up with us. I told him to make up an excuse."

"Fair enough, Potter's so stupid he'll believe anything that Finnigan tells him."

"And that's another thing. You might actually want to start calling him Harry from now on."

"…Harry?"

"You are going to be going out with him, after all."

"Harry."

"Exactly, and say it softly too. It will be the tone of your voice that will help charm him, not just the words that you say."

"Got it, that's step one done," Draco said, slipping the note into the pocket of his trousers. "And once that's done, you can start dating Finnigan."

"Step two!" Blaise cheered, writing on another piece of parchment; the one that they had been devising the plan on. "My favourite step!"

"And then it's onto step three. i My /i favourite step."

"Which is?"

"Fuck the Boy Who Lived."

"You want to shag Potter?!"

"I do indeed. It's my reward for helping you out."

"Getting him in bed is impossible for anyone, even for you."

"Exactly. That's why I want to do it. Laying claim on Harry Potter is going to be pretty impressive."

"You do realise he's not just going to jump into bed with you, don't you? You're going to have to romance him first."

"Romance him?"

"Yeah, you know, sit at the Gryffindor table with him during meals--"

"I am not sitting with those insufferable--"

"Send him love notes--"

"Love notes! I'm not going to behave like some kind of moronic sap--"

"Snuggle with him--"

"Snuggle?"

"Yes, snuggle. I don't suppose fucking in a toilet stall prepares you for that kind of thing."

"Clearly not."

"Don't worry, I'll help. Scoot back against the head board, and spread your legs."

Draco did as he was told, glaring at Blaise uncertainly.

Blaise padded across the bed to Draco and leaned his back against his chest, facing the same direction as Draco was. "Now, wrap your arms around my waist."

"What? Blaise, I'm not--" Draco was cut off when Blaise reached around him to grab Draco's arms and placed them around his waist. Draco sighed impatiently, waiting for Blaise's next instruction. "Now what do we do?"

"Nothing. We stay like this."

"Stay like this?! For how long?"

"An undetermined amount of time."

"What's the point in that?"

"There is no point. This is just what people do in relationships."

"And this is why I avoid relationships. Can you get off me now?"

"Don't get your knickers in a twist," Blaise laughed as Draco ripped his hands off Blaise's waist and pushed him away forcefully muttering something that sounded like 'what a waste of time'. "So, you sleep with Harry. Then what?"

"Step four. We break the Gryffindor Pact so that I can break up with P-Harry and you can continue dating Finnigan."

"That's impossible. As long as their Gryffindor clique is paired up, there will be a pact."

"…So if Thomas, Weasley or Longbottom were single again, the pact wouldn't apply?"

"I guess not."

"Looks like I'm going to be causing more than one break up then," Draco smiled evilly, writing the fourth and final step onto the piece of parchment containing the plan, before placing it in the drawer of his bedside cabinet for safe keeping.


	9. Chapter Nine: Call me cupcake

Thanks to Sanguiyn my wonderful beta, who not only saves me from grammatical errors, but also dresses as a super hero when she does it.

**Disclaimer:**

Loosely based on '10 Things I hate about you', which was based on Shakespeare's 'Taming of the Shrew'.

Gilmore Girls quote alert in this chapter too. ;-)

You all know that I don't own the Harry Potter characters (JKR does). But if I did, something like this would happen to them...

"So Lavender definitely thinks she saw Madam Pince hugging Filch outside the--" Ron started to say, but was distracted when something caught his eye. "Oooh the house-elves made cupcakes for dessert, be a pal and pass me a chocolate one, would you, Harry?"

"It's hard to believe that either one of them is capable of any human emotion whatsoever especially… love," Harry replied, as he reached for a chocolate cupcake to pass to Ron.

"No, wait!" Ron stopped him. "Hand me a blueberry one instead."

Harry rolled his eyes amusedly before handing the cupcake to Ron, who took it gratefully.

"People can evolve together though, don't you think--" Ron began, going to take a bite out of his cupcake. "Actually I think I'll have the chocolate one after all."

"Yoko and John Lennon did. They just got closer and--" Harry agreed, reaching for the chocolate cupcake for the second time, only to be interrupted by Ron again.

"Actually never mind, I'll just stick with the blueberry."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"Positive?"

"Yes."

"Going to change your mind again?"

"No…" Ron said firmly, still eying the plate of cupcakes out of the corner of his eye. "…though the strawberry one does look quite tasty."

"Ron, if you don't make up your mind soon, I'm going to shove that blueberry cupcake somewhere dark; somewhere where it will make it impossible for you to walk," Harry threatened. "Why don't you just eat all three?"

Ron looked anxiously over to Hermione, who shook her head resignedly. "Fine, Ron, eat all three! They're your arteries, not mine!"

Ron smiled widely as he piled the cupcakes onto his plate. They vanished within seconds, as he ate them eagerly, finishing his last bite with a small burp.

"Er… cupcake," Harry pointed to Ron's face, referring to a blob of chocolate icing that Ron had unsurprisingly gotten on his chin, before returning to their previous discussion. "As I was saying, Yoko and John Lennon evolved together. They just got closer and closer as the years went by. And at the end, they had the same face."

"Who's Yokel and Joe Linen? Hey, imagine what it would look like if you combined Filch's face with Madam P--" Ron stopped suddenly and gaped worriedly at Harry. "Wait a minute. Did you just call me Cupcake?"

"What? No!" Harry explained hastily. "I was pointing out the bit of icing that you have on your chin."

"Oh," Ron sighed in relief, rubbing his chin with a napkin. "Thank Merlin. For a minute there I thought that you had said the first nickname in the history of the world that would've made Gilderoy Lockhart say, 'Whoa. Step back. No one's i that /i gay'."

"No, Ron," Harry said, laughing. "I would never call you Cupcake, seeing as it appears to bother you so much."

"You can call me Cupcake if you like." Harry heard the unmistakable drawl of Draco Malfoy behind him. "I wouldn't mind it."

Harry whipped around, and sure enough Malfoy was standing by the Gryffindor table, his customary smirk replaced by a charming, flirtatious smile. Harry noticed the strange change in his facial expression, and for all the hatred that had once clogged his veins and weighed his feet over the past six years, he realised that he didn't despise Malfoy anymore. This unnerved Harry to no end, and all he could do under Malfoy's intense gaze, was turn a very deep shade of red.

"Finnigan," Draco continued coolly, turning to Seamus and handing him a folded piece of parchment, "Blaise asked me to give you this."

"Thanks," Seamus replied, failing to hide the excitement in his voice.

"No problem," Draco replied, turning back to Harry and winking before strutting back to the Slytherin table. "See you around, Cupcake."

center /center

The stairway leading up to the Astronomy Tower was dismal with faded, murky paint peeling off its walls to reveal another grey layer of nothingness underneath. As Harry approached the gloomy tower, a strange feeling crept over him. As he came closer to the old, wooden door, he stiffened. The dark walls of the stairway made his heart feel heavy as he and Seamus slowly walked up the dusty staircase, floorboards creaking underneath their feet. Somehow he felt nervous. Was something waiting for him in the tower?

"Seamus, why are you taking me up here?" Harry asked, his voice echoing eerily around them.

"I-I want to talk to you," Seamus floundered. He really wasn't good at lying. He was a Gryffindor after all; he wore his heart on his sleeve.

"But we can talk in the common room," Harry reasoned, gazing apprehensively up at the wooden door that loomed menacingly above them.

"Well, I didn't want anyone to overhear us," Seamus explained, stumbling slightly on the stairs due to the hungry desire that coursed through his veins at the thought of seeing Blaise again. He caught his breath and steadied his footing. "I want to talk to you privately."

"About what?" Harry questioned as they arrived at the top of the staircase, which was damp with age. He stared intensely at the door, his eyes trying to penetrate its moistened wood, in order to see what was inevitably concealed behind it.

"About how many chocolate frogs I'm going to buy you for doing this for me," Seamus replied, fumbling slightly with the doorknob before pushing the door open.

The hinges of the door creaked as it swung open and a gust of wind blew over their faces. The hairs on the back of Harry's neck started to stand up. He didn't know whether to go forward or run away.

Summoning the courage to enter the tower, he felt fear run through his veins. The cold air of the tower made him feel unsafe. The darkness of the room was impenetrable and he stood still, waiting for his eyes to adjust.

"Doing wh--" Terror seeped through Harry's veins. As he finally saw what lay ahead of him, he started to panic. He didn't want to be in this dreadful place; he wanted to be back in his dormitory where he could be safe.

BANG! The door slammed shut behind him. To his horror, Seamus was gone. Then he realised that he was in the same predicament that he had been the night before. He was stuck with Draco Malfoy.


	10. Chapter Ten: Green Skies

Thanks to Sanguiyn my wonderful beta, who not only saves me from grammatical errors, but also dresses as a super hero when she does it.

**Disclaimer:**

Loosely based on '10 Things I hate about you', which was based on Shakespeare's 'Taming of the Shrew'.

You all know that I don't own the Harry Potter characters (JKR does). But if I did, something like this would happen to them...

The second it closed shut behind them, Seamus slammed Blaise up against the Astronomy Tower door, capturing his mouth in a long rough kiss.

Blaise had experienced this kind of thing many times before, but this time he wanted a serious relationship; it didn't seem right for him to start it in the same way he had started all of his past meaningless encounters. So, he felt he should stop things before they went spiralling out of control.

"Wait, Seamus, stop!" he panted, pushing the boy away from him. At first, Seamus looked taken aback, but then he smirked, raised his eyebrows, and looked expectantly at Blaise for an explanation.

"I don't want just another meaningless fling," Blaise explained. "If we're going to do this, it has to be for the long term, otherwise we can't do it at all."

"I agree." Seamus replied impatiently, pressing Blaise against the wall again, lightly nipping his neck with his teeth. "Is that all?"

"N-No!" Blaise pushed Seamus away again. "If we're going to have a serious relationship, we have to do it properly. We need to get to know each other more."

"I agree," Seamus repeated, "but we don't have time for that at the moment. Harry could bolt from the tower any minute, and I have an obligation to follow him if he does. So right now, you need to put your mouth to better use."

And with that Seamus crashed his mouth against Blaise's, silencing any other concerns he may have had.

Harry's palms were sweating, his thumbs twiddling frantically. His eyes darted around the room as he tried desperately to find something other than Draco on which to focus his attention. As the gust of wind continued to blow over his face, he felt cold and rigid. Could he find no warmth in this room?

"Are you going to actually come in, Harry?" Draco said as he strolled over to meet him at the door. It was more a distracted statement than a question. "Or are you going to stand there all night?"

"Did you just call me Harry?" Harry asked, searching for words that wouldn't offend Draco's newfound sincerity. Draco's voice surprised him. He usually spoke in a patronising tone, heavily dripped with sarcasm and malice. He had certainly never called Harry by his first name either, choosing to spit out his last name hatefully instead.

"I did," Draco replied. "And you might want to start calling me Draco from now on, especially after what happened." Now he sounded affectionate. "Or you could call me Cupcake, whatever works for you."

"W-What happened?" Harry had tried to speak smoothly, but his voice was almost frozen shut. His heart started pounding hard and erratically as fear further enveloped him. Draco's eyes, which were piercing the darkness disturbingly, unsettled him. Under this intense gaze, Harry began to wish that he had run when he had the chance.

"We almost kissed," Draco continued, reaching forward and grabbing hold of Harry's wrist. "Friday night, at the dance. Don't tell me you forgot."

Harry's frozen stance slowly started to melt the moment Draco's skin touched his. He was no longer perturbed. Something about Draco's touch calmed him. He had found the warmth he needed.

"I didn't forget," he admitted hoarsely, swallowing nervously. The memory of that night still haunted him. He knew that it would never fade. It would remain imprinted on his mind forever. "I just wasn't expecting it to happen."

"I didn't think it could ever happen either," Draco said calmly, stepping further forward, taking hold of Harry's other wrist.

Harry was becoming confused. Where was Draco going with this? Was this some nasty trick to get him to apologise for what had happened between them?

"What do you want?" he asked desperately. "I'm sorry. Is that what you want to hear? I never meant to--"

"I don't want an apology, Harry." Draco had said his name so tenderly that Harry melted even more. "I want that kiss we never got to have."

"Huh?" Harry spluttered, bright emerald eyes glittering feverishly.

It was this that stopped Draco. So far, this meeting in the Astronomy Tower had been grey and meaningless to him. And now, all of a sudden, there was colour. The tower felt like it was spinning, shaking, breaking, and swirling in a current of brilliant green; a green that could infiltrate any darkness.

Harry's green eyes were all Draco could see. It was as though they were pouring light into the cold, dark room. They had such an effect on him that even the star-filled sky above them began to turn green.

Draco could no longer comprehend his own actions, the green current pushing all thoughts of the plan out of his mind. Without even realising it, his hands loosened their grip on Harry's wrists completely, allowing them to slip away. He began to lean over Harry, whose mouth and eyes widened dumbly in anticipation.

Blood pounded in Draco's ears and desire raged through him as he slid one arm around Harry's waist and entangled his free hand in Harry's hair, tightening his fingers in the silky black strands. He leant forward and slowly, softly pressed his lips against Harry's.

Their lips had barely touched, yet Harry felt his cheeks grow warm, his head swim, and all coherent thoughts vanish. His eyelids fluttered closed and his breathing hitched as he timidly encircled Draco's neck with his arms. Draco's eyelids also slipped closed, but he could still see the green of Harry's irises on their inside.

Draco flicked his tongue lightly against Harry's lips, causing the Gryffindor to gasp and tentatively open his mouth. This allowed Draco to slip his insistent tongue inside, and slide it along Harry's bottom lip, across his teeth, and then deeper, across his tongue.

Intense waves of pleasure coursed through Draco's veins as the kiss deepened more than he thought was humanly possible, their tongues sweeping, twisting and sucking together.

Harry had never felt anything more wonderful in his life. He had only ever kissed one other person before, and that was Cho Chang last year. Draco was quickly putting that kiss to shame. Harry began to make soft, desperate moaning noises in the back of his throat, and Draco drank in the sound, kissing Harry deeply for long, unhurried minutes.

Harry whimpered softly, and as Draco lowered his head to nibble gently at the ridge of a collarbone, he reached up to cup the back of Draco's head with both hands. Draco began to explore, trailing soft, damp kisses up the side of Harry's face, stopping to nuzzle the skin near Harry's temple. He caressed the area carefully with his tongue, indulging in the taste that was uniquely Harry.

His mouth moved languorously back to Harry's, capturing it in another slow, searing kiss. After a long while, he pulled back slightly, his head whirling, and looked at the Gryffindor. His eyes closed, his head tilted a bit to the side, Harry was a pile of melted mush in his arms.

Harry's longing expression cleared Draco's mind and reminded him why he was here and what he had to do. He brought his hand up to Harry's face, cradling it gently, and leaned forward to whisper huskily in his ear, "Will you go out with me, Harry?"

Harry opened his eyes and stared at Draco. His eyes were still their usual brilliant green, yet clouded and unfocused. The last time he had been this close to Draco, he'd felt as though he'd been set on fire. This time, however, he simply felt a warm glow where Draco had touched him, making him feel like he had melted into a pile of goo in Draco's arms. It was a wonder he was able to speak at all.

"Yes."

Draco's spirits rose to a new level at the sureness in Harry's voice. He not only felt smug about the first step of his plan succeeding, but also had a strange, unfamiliar sensation growing in his chest.

He not only felt a desire to hurt Harry, but a desire to give him happiness as well.

This other desire was buried so deep within him that he didn't even know it was there.

He had no idea that its intensity would slowly solidify into something much more powerful.


	11. Chapter Eleven: This moment

Thanks to Sanguiyn my wonderful beta, who not only saves me from grammatical errors, but also dresses as a super hero when she does it.

**Disclaimer:**

Loosely based on '10 Things I hate about you', which was based on Shakespeare's 'Taming of the Shrew'.

Chapter Warning: Major Fluff!

You all know that I don't own the Harry Potter characters (JKR does). But if I did, something like this would happen to them...

Hogwarts was experiencing its most dramatic change yet. The Boy Who Lived was dating the Slytherin Prince of Darkness. Like the change itself, the news travelled quickly throughout the school. Whilst it was shocking to all, everyone remained quite unperturbed by the union of this unlikely couple.

This is because Hogwarts already has many unlikely couples. Hermione is the smartest witch of her age, yet Ron has the intellectual capacity of a Flobberworm. Luna doesn't appreciate any animal that isn't a Crumple-Horned Snorkack, yet Neville always carries his toad in his pocket. And both Filch and Madame Pince are devoid of any human emotion whatsoever, yet they were seen by numerous students hugging outside the library late one Saturday night.

However, the moment Draco had sat down with Harry at the Gryffindor table for dinner, there hadn't been a single pair of eyes in the Great Hall that wasn't on them.

They had sat down facing each other. Harry was nervous from all the attention they appeared to be getting, which caused him to close out the questions Draco was asking him.

He was leaning across the table, letting Draco talk as they ate. Harry couldn't find anything to say under the watchful eyes of his peers and desperately wanted to listen to Draco instead, as a means to take his mind off their audience. Draco obligingly answered the need, first with generalities, then by telling the details of his life that Harry didn't know about.

Draco warmed to Harry's nervousness and his streak of shyness, which he understood was due to being watched. He decided that it would be best if they left the Great Hall and found some privacy.

"I don't think they're going to stop looking at us," Draco observed. "Do you want to leave?"

There was a small silence. Then Draco covered Harry's hand with his.

Harry gazed down at their joined hands, not knowing how to properly word his answer. "I don't want to leave you just yet."

"You don't have to." Draco pushed back his chair and went around the table to take hold of Harry. "Come and lie down with me."

Harry stood up but made no other move. A space yawned between them. "What does that mean?"

"It means I want to hold you and be close to you, without the entire population of Hogwarts scrutinizing our every move."

"Okay then. But where are we going to go?"

"Let's go down to my dormitory, before Blaise and Finnigan beat us to it."

They smiled at each other for perhaps the first time ever, before making their way out of the Great Hall. Infinite sets of eyes followed them until they disappeared from the room.

The centre of Draco's mattress seemed to bear the impression of a single large body. Despite Draco's numerous trysts, he'd never actually had anybody else in his bed. He smiled at the incongruity of it all as he and Harry lay down in one another's arms.

Draco put his mouth against Harry's hair, and Harry felt the warmth of Draco's breath on his scalp when he whispered, "This is so good."

"Can we just stay like this?" Harry asked as Draco began stroking his hair. The comfort of this action was all-enveloping, and Harry happily rested his head, letting his bones slowly sink into stillness. The feeling of Draco's heart beating so closely to his was slowly relaxing him and making him feel sleepy.

"Of course," Draco replied. Harry's warmth and smell was benign, and his breathing was a soothingly, steady rhythm against Draco's heart.

The pure silence from beyond the castle filled the dormitory and seemed to cleanse them. They lay in one another's arms without the need to talk. The awkwardness of their first meal together had all gone, and the minutes slipped past them without being marked or counted.

Draco thought about the other day, when Blaise had showed him how he was supposed to hold Harry. It had felt uncomfortable and he hadn't liked it. Whereas now, with Harry actually in his arms, their gentle intimacy suffused with silence, Draco couldn't help but think he had never felt more comfortable in his life.

Draco's eyes were open, studying Harry's face. A movement of his shoulder settled it closer to his. Harry shifted his position and Draco misread his intention. He found Harry's mouth with his and busily kissed him. The kiss was half answered, and then it shrivelled between them.

Draco ran his hand gently through the back of Harry's silky black hair. "Is there something wrong?"

"Of course not," Harry replied in a soft voice. He felt so warm and comfortable with Draco's arms wrapped around him, and the rhythmic stroking of Draco's fingers in his hair was slowly putting him to sleep. "I just need to stop and soak it in."

"Soak what in?" Draco asked. Harry started running his fingers over Draco's cheek carefully, as though trying to take in everything about the way Draco looked at this particular moment.

"This moment," Harry answered, giving Draco a heavy-lidded gaze and a sleepy smile. "I haven't had many good moments in my life. I want to hold onto this one while I can. When it's over, I want to be able to remember everything about it."

"What part of this moment do you think you will remember most?" Draco asked as he leant over and kissed Harry on his forehead, then on his nose, and then on his lips.

"How I can feel a heartbeat," Harry murmured while giving a long blink. "Except, I can't tell whether the heartbeat is yours, mine, or a mixture of the two." He buried his face into Draco's neck.

Draco knew that Harry's actions would drive him to sleep. He was a little frightened at the thought of having someone in his bed. But, as he felt Harry's deep, even breaths against his neck, he found he really didn't mind anymore. He realised that Harry's mere presence was enough to calm any objections he may have had about sharing his bed.

He reached down and pulled the covers up over them. Settling himself back against Harry, he began to listen to the unfamiliar soft snores, indicating that Harry had fallen asleep. Not more than a minute or two later, similar snores could be heard from Draco.


	12. Chapter Twelve: Three small words

Thanks to Sanguiyn my wonderful beta, who not only saves me from grammatical errors, but also dresses as a super hero when she does it.

**Disclaimer:**

Loosely based on '10 Things I hate about you', which was based on Shakespeare's 'Taming of the Shrew'.

You all know that I don't own the Harry Potter characters (JKR does). But if I did, something like this would happen to them...

The fireplace in the Gryffindor common room held a core of pure red heat within a cage of branches. Every so often, part of the latticework collapsed and a column of sparks went shooting upwards. Draco was seated on one of the couches by the roaring fire, his mouth curled with pleasure, and his eyes planted firmly on Harry.

"How's it going?"

Draco didn't reply as Blaise sat down next to him on the couch. He seemed unable to comprehend anything that wasn't green-eyed and currently talking to Thomas and Finnigan on the other side of the room.

"Earth to Draco," Blaise said smirking, waving his hand in front of Draco's face.

"Huh?" Draco replied blankly, keeping his eyes focused on Harry while unconsciously licking his lips. He didn't even flinch when Blaise waved his hand in front of him.

"Are you drooling over Potter?" Blaise asked teasingly, giving his friend an all-knowing smile.

"No… I… was just… seeing the… Harry."

"That wasn't even a sentence." Blaise laughed out loud. "You're ogling Potter like a horny schoolgirl. No, wait! You i are /i a horny schoolgirl!"

This comment seemed to snap Draco out of his trance. He turned to Blaise with a look of pure fury on his face. "That's rich coming from you! Every time I see you, you've got your filthy hands all over Finnigan!"

"I'm not touching Seamus now," Blaise pointed out. "Don't freak out. I should have warned you that when you fall for someone, you go a little crazy."

"Crazy?" Draco hissed, being careful to keep his voice down so that Harry wouldn't hear. "I am not crazy! I'm a Malfoy; I'm perfectly sane!"

"You're going down, mate," Blaise disagreed happily, "just like the rest of us."

"I'm not going anywhere!" Draco spat. "The rest of you may be satisfied with committing to one person, but I'm not! I'm sick of having to touch that insufferable scar-faced git all the time! Frankly, I can't wait until the plan is finished and this whole horrible ordeal is over!"

"Then why haven't you started step three of the plan yet?" Blaise asked, sneering at Draco.

"It's only been two months! And you know very well that I need to romance him first," Draco snapped. "It was your fucking idea in the first place!"

"You don't need to romance him anymore, Draco," Blaise pointed out. "He's already fallen for you."

"Well, I hadn't noticed," Draco huffed.

"You're lying." Blaise's sneer took on a life of its own. It ballooned out of his mouth and swayed in the air between them, so that Draco was tempted to put up his fists to bat it away. "I think that you're postponing it, just so that you can spend some more time with him."

"How dare you accuse me of such a thing?! The only reason I spend so much time up here with him is because I have to! I can't get into my dormitory because you're always locked up in there with Finnigan! I don't have a choice!"

"Well, Seamus and I are here now, so you can go. That is, if you can bring yourself to leave Potter."

"I'll show you. I'll fuck him i right now /i , and then, tomorrow, I'll figure out a way to break up one of the Gryffindor couples," Draco declared before purposely striding towards Harry. "I'll be broken up with Harry in a week. Then we'll see who the crazy one is."

Harry was taken completely by surprise when Draco gripped him almost painfully around the waist and pulled him into a hungry kiss. Not only was the kiss sudden, but he also could feel Draco hardening rapidly against his thigh.

Harry would often feel Draco's erection pushing into him during their heavy kissing sessions, and Draco would always pull back before Harry could comment. But this time, it was different, somehow brutal. Draco wanted him to feel it.

Harry thought of the protests he should make as Draco grabbed his hand then dragged him across the common room and up the stairs to the sixth year boys' dormitory. But even as the thought came, he gasped and abandoned it, allowing Draco to throw him into the room and slam the door shut behind them.

He let his head fall back against his pillow, as Draco threw him onto his bed and pounced on him before continuing his assault on his mouth.

They had never done this before. When the two of them grew bruised and sticky with kissing, they would simply stop, hold onto each other and let time drift by unnoticeably. Today was different. Harry didn't ask why, but he silently accepted that the difference was momentous.

At first, Draco felt cold and calm, like he always did when he was about to have sex with someone. He had always blocked out the faces and sounds of the people he had sex with, only focusing on himself and the pleasure he felt. But for some reason, his ears seemed painfully over-attuned to the noises escaping from Harry's mouth.

Harry's worried moans and gasps were so quiet they were almost impossible to hear. Yet, Draco's hearing seemed to sharpen. Even though the volume of Harry's noises didn't rise, they grew louder and louder in Draco's ears, swelling as if his head was empty except for the echo of Harry's voice.

A part of his mind wanted to cling to the fact that it was Harry beneath him. And another part within him, one that was lodged somewhere deep inside his chest, didn't want Harry's voice or face to blur into nothingness. If those eyes faded or disappeared, there would be no colour anymore, and his life would turn back to meaningless grey.

Draco's eyes snapped open, locking on Harry. He watched in horror as Harry's eyes blurred in front of his own, turning into dull blotches of green.

A thought, tangled and twined in the echoes of Harry's voice, began to surface in Draco's head. He couldn't let Harry slip away. He couldn't let Harry become mute or faceless like all the others.

Harry shivered with currents of pleasure when Draco's fierce, eager motions suddenly became slow and sensual. Draco moved his hands, which had still been clamped on Harry's waist, to gently cradle Harry's face.

He began to plant soft kisses over it, and Harry closed his eyes to bask in the feeling, the kisses landing on his forehead and cheeks like feathers settling on still water.

Draco pulled back to see if the green had recovered, only to find that there was no green at all; Harry had closed his eyes.

"Harry, open your eyes." The words tumbled out of Draco's mouth before he could catch them.

They fell over Harry, the desperation in them making his heart freeze and its beat falter.

Draco sighed with relief when Harry answered his request. Colour bled out of Harry's irises, stronger and brighter than ever, lending the darkness of the dormitory a comforting greenish glow.

"Are you all right?" There was a crease between Harry's eyebrows and one corner of his mouth was bitten in.

"Yes. But I'm… thinking. We should stop."

The crease stayed. "Please don't stop. I want you to make love to me."

Draco stared down at Harry. He had never made love to anyone before. He had 'shagged', 'fucked' and 'had sex', but 'love making' was something he was quite unfamiliar with. He pulled slightly away from Harry and looked carefully into his face. Instead of saying anything, he waited, letting himself discern whatever there was to see. "Are you sure that's what you want?" he finally asked.

"Yes." Harry replied without hesitation. "Is it what i you /i want?"

Draco knew what he wanted; he wanted to make love to Harry. And the recognition made his skin burn. Beyond that, he had no idea how to sort the longings into a sequence he could give voice to.

There was still time, Draco thought wildly. Everything that had happened between them up to now – the dance, the Astronomy Tower, all the other moments they had spent in each other's presence – could be lightly dismissed or explained away; it was all part of the plan to help Blaise get Finnigan, nothing more. Draco could give a little regretful laugh or a rueful shrug, carry out the plan and step away from Harry and back into the dissemblance of his life. Realising this, he felt a beat of unhappiness slither through him.

Harry saw the sadness in Draco's eyes. He slid his hands to Draco's shoulders and drew him back against him, lifting his head to capture Draco's mouth in another kiss.

The tape of Draco's hesitation and self-admonition stopped running. It was so natural to do what they were doing, and the urgency of it amazed him.

It was a long while before their mouths moved apart again, and even then Harry held Draco firmly to his chest, as if this time he was the one afraid to lose Draco, and Draco the one blurring away into nothingness.

Draco was looking for his words. "I want to make love to you," he said at last. "But I don't want to cause you any pain. You've experienced enough of that."

Harry brushed away the hair that had fallen over Draco's eyes and explored the contours of his face, a movement that seemed to Draco to be more intimate than sex. "I never experience pain when you're around."

Harry's simple reply reverberated with trust, and that was all the persuasion Draco needed. With careful movements, he slowly began to undress Harry. Harry shifted a little, hesitant, then yielding. Their mouths met again – familiar after months of touching but wider now, and wetter – until they both felt they might slip down the other's throat and be swallowed up forever.

A minute later, it seemed, Harry's clothes had been dropped aside, and he lay back naked with one hand crooked to pillow his head. He had imagined this moment with Draco, and feeling ashamed and inadequate in such an exposed state, but now, with Draco leaning over him with a hungry look in his eyes, he understood that neither shame nor inadequacy was at issue. Nor were questions of right and wrong. This was right, and this was what he wanted.

After Draco had undressed himself, he knelt between Harry's spread knees, as naked as Harry was, his hair almost as ruffled as Harry's, and his face taut with longing and desire. Harry noticed that Draco was holding his erection with one hand as if he was afraid he might spill too soon.

"I'm going to prepare you now, Harry," Draco explained, and Harry watched intently as Draco lifted his free hand to his own mouth, put two fingers into it and began sucking on them. After a while he pulled them, glistening with saliva, from his mouth, moved his hand around to Harry's backside and slipped his fingers between the cheeks. "Relax. Otherwise it will hurt more." Then he whispered a single word, too low for Harry to understand.

"I am relaxed. I'm with you." Even as Harry spoke, he felt it sting a little bit, causing him to gasp as he felt Draco's finger prod his entrance.

Harry squirmed slightly at the first breech, but then determinedly pressed against Draco's fingers, allowing him to slowly push in past the tight band of muscle.

Skilfully, lovingly, Draco began to massage and stretch Harry, and every sigh, every whimper that he elicited from him drove his own need higher until he was sure he would explode from its sheer intensity.

Harry was completely relaxed; his eyes slipped closed in pleasure. Soft whimpers escaped his swollen lips, as he welcomed and succumbed to Draco's caresses and his body adjusted to the sensation of Draco's fingers in him.

Draco had to hold his erection with his other hand, squeezing himself tightly. If he let himself go, he was sure to orgasm, from the mere look of pure bliss on Harry's face. Yet, his restrained arousal continually throbbed, reminding him it was there. He groaned in annoyance.

Harry sensed Draco's frustration. "It's okay, Draco, I'm ready."

"Are you sure you want this?" Draco asked, looking deep into Harry's eyes. They remained solid and unfading, yet he half-feared the green would not only blur again but mutate into a different colour.

"Yes I am," Harry replied. "It's all I want." Harry's eyes seemed to brighten and strengthen at his declaration. ' i Don't move /i ', Draco silently warned them. ' i Stay frozen like that forever /i '.

Looking at Draco's face and the muscled lines of his body, Harry thought he would melt with love. With a helpless groan, Draco slowly began to push himself into him.

Draco was almost being too gentle, and without properly understanding his hunger, Harry lifted his hips, his eyes slanting with a smile, offering himself to Draco, forcefully pushing himself up into him.

Draco wholeheartedly replied to this unexpected enthusiasm, and they soon found a rhythm, moving in perfect unison. Harry's pain quickly melted into warm pleasure, as he became more relaxed and accustomed to the feeling of Draco inside of him. And then suddenly, without warning, he was pushed into total oblivion.

Draco touched something deep inside him, causing him to scream loudly. Ecstasy unfolded magnificent wings in his belly; it spread throughout his entire body, and orgasm hit him. He quaked and shivered and then shook uncontrollably, splashing pearly white strands all over their stomachs.

Above him, Draco was shuddering as well. He shouted something Harry couldn't decipher, and Harry lay motionless with his eyes wide open as Draco spent himself inside him.

Basking in the afterglow, Harry held Draco's head in his arms, strands of Draco's sweat-soaked hair caught in his mouth. From then on, whatever awaited in the future or lingered in the past, nothing would be able to take this moment from them.

His first time had been with Draco.

A tiny beat of triumph and relief and happiness began to tick in Harry's throat. He peeled Draco's hair away from his mouth and waited for Draco to come back to him.

Draco was stunned. He had only been properly inside Harry for mere seconds and yet he had felt more sexual hunger than he ever had with anyone else in his life. Just being inside Harry, having him shake beneath and stare lovingly up at him, was enough to tip him over the edge. Not only that, it had been the most intense orgasm of his life.

When he opened his eyes, he looked dazed, overcome in a way that Harry had never glimpsed in him before. Like a leaf falling, he crumpled sidewards on his back next to Harry. Harry let him collapse away, but immediately afterwards, he placed his head on Draco's shoulder and folded his arms around him.

In turn, Draco locked Harry in his arms, pinning him against him. They didn't say anything; they didn't have to. They simply lay in each other's arms, awed by the magnitude of what had just happened between them.

The dormitory became draped in a quiet stillness. It was as if the cool night air was holding its breath, not even daring to ruffle the curtains by the open window nearby, fearing that disturbing the silence would ruin the moment. The sound of voices and meaningless laughter that usually travelled from the common room up into the dormitory were not present either, almost as though the night air had suffocated them as well. The room remained encased like this for a long moment and time seemed to stretch on forever.

The unmoving air's silent tribute was eventually broken, though through no fault of its own. The curtains remained untouched and the racket from downstairs was still suppressed as a soft voice filled the room.

"I love you."


	13. Chapter Thirteen: History repeats itself

Thanks to Sanguiyn my wonderful beta, who not only saves me from grammatical errors, but also dresses as a super hero when she does it.

**Disclaimer:**

Loosely based on '10 Things I hate about you', which was based on Shakespeare's 'Taming of the Shrew'.

You all know that I don't own the Harry Potter characters (JKR does). But if I did, something like this would happen to them...

_Six or seven years old, Draco wakes up in the night, surprised because it seems that he was asleep the minute before, and now he is wide awake as if it were the middle of the day._

_When he can't get back to sleep, he pushes the covers aside and climbs out of his bed. The Manor is quiet but a dim light burns in the lengthy hallways, just as it always does at night. He pads out of his bedroom and crosses over to the room where his parents sleep._

_The door is ajar. Silently he pushes it open wider, remembering that his father is away somewhere, doing his work._

_His mother and a man are lying together on the smooth cover of his parents' large double bed. Their legs are bare and twisted together. His mother's head is thrown back and she looks as if she is screaming, though there is no actual scream coming out of her mouth. The man's breath is rasping. Then he begins to moan too. He is saying her name over and over, "Cissy, Cissy, Cissy."_

_Draco turns and runs away. He dashes back to his room, pulls the covers over his head and presses his hands to his ears. He doesn't know how, but he falls asleep._

From that night onward, he had known the direction his life would take. He would marry the woman his parents would choose for him, and he and his future bride would promise to stay together, forsaking all others, both understanding that it was a promise they would undoubtedly break. He would still be able to have sex with many different people, and he would enjoy it.

Infidelity radiated from Malfoy Manor. It was like the shadow of a bird flitting past, a flash of colour in the corner of Draco's eye. Its presence filled the house and grounds, filtered through the shutters, and haunted the hallways. There was no escaping it. It constantly served as a reminder to Draco that he would never find love in the world.

For Malfoys, love was what magic was for Muggles: a figment of the imagination. Love simply didn't exist, and Draco was tailor-made to fit perfectly into the Malfoy family suit, with this belief sewn into every last one of his pockets. But something about Harry was making him come undone at the seams. And even he couldn't deny it now.

_'I love you too.'_

It was the reply that expanded in Draco's chest and rose into his throat, but died before it reached his mouth. Instead, other words came out, just as the curtains began flapping noisily in a sudden gust of wind.

"What did you just say?"

Harry didn't answer, and from the rhythm of his breathing it was obvious that he was fast asleep. He was draped across Draco's chest now, with one leg resting over Draco's thighs. Draco lay fastened to him, love lodged uncomfortably beneath his collarbone like a lump of undigested dough, as though it was unsure whether it wanted to progress further into Draco's core.

His uncertainty made time stretch and distort, like the two different roads which now lay before him, shimmering in a heat-haze. He didn't know which one to follow. On one hand, there was the choice of abandoning the plan and committing to Harry for real. Or he could play it safe: stitch up the tear in his Malfoy attire, continue to carry out the plan, break up with Harry, and forget that the threads had ever broken.

He didn't know what to choose, but what he did know was that he couldn't make his decision there and then. Lying down with Harry, it was easy to dispel the thoughts of his second option, and the feeling of Harry's breath on his skin was undeniably clouding his judgement.

He struggled to sit upright without disturbing Harry, and quietly got dressed. He smiled fondly at Harry's relaxed face. There was no shadow or weight pressing on him – it was hard to believe that he was the boy who had killed Lord Voldemort barely a year ago. Draco bent down to pull the covers over Harry and kiss his forehead, before exiting from the room.

He was thankful to be able to creep out of the Gryffindor common room unnoticed. He didn't want to be interrogated by the Gryffindors, who all certainly hadn't missed the hungry look in Draco's eyes and guessed why he had dragged Harry upstairs so hurriedly.

He knew he couldn't go to his own dormitory in case it was now being occupied by Blaise and Finnigan. So he decided to go to the Astronomy Tower, hoping to find a solution in the place where the problem had begun to surface in the first place.

He climbed the narrow, twisting staircase to the Astronomy Tower, ignoring the eerie sensation that was creeping about between his shoulder blades. When he reached the top, he noticed that the door was slightly ajar, so he pushed it open, not expecting that anybody else would be inside.

The memories of that night when he was a child suddenly surfaced, vivid and unresolved in Draco's mind. They became a series of jerky tableaux, grotesquely over-lit figures superimposed on blackness. Though this time, it wasn't his mother he saw.

There, laid out on a blanket on the floor, were Ginny Weasley and Michael Corner, in the same state he had found his mother all those years before. He was cornered by the memory of his mother and the faceless man, and the lesson that he had learnt from it.

Malfoys can't love. And neither can anybody else.

Suddenly, the image of Ginny Weasley and Michael Corner bred other images. They came swimming up out of a dark place. The pairs of legs and arms seemed to multiply, clothed and naked, and the intent unseeing faces fed on one another until they blurred and became one, and turned into everyone he knew and everything he had once believed.

Everyone claimed to be in love, and even if they truly thought they were, it would change. They would grow tired of their other half, and eventually crave something new and more exciting. They would betray their 'loved one', just as his mother betrayed his father, just as Ginny Weasley was betraying Dean Thomas, and just as Harry would eventually betray him (or vice versa).

Watching the scene before him, Draco became aware of a strange sensation in his head. His brain was coming to life after two months of dormancy. Rusty and unused, it would sharpen with practice. Cogs and gears were starting to turn slowly, re-forming long-forgotten thoughts. Snakes of green and silver began to slip and slide through the newly awakened machinery, calling back his inner Slytherin, which had previously slithered away.

Everything was set up for him now. A chance to carry out Step Four had appeared suddenly and unrepentantly, and Draco was going to take it. It would be easy for him: Ginny Weasley was cheating on Dean Thomas, so all he simply needed to do was make sure she'd get caught.

It was only a matter of time before the Gryffindor Pact was broken; only a matter of time before he could be free to break up with Harry and return to his old way of living.

With this enlightenment, Draco exited the tower, feelings and emotions for Harry flaking off him like paint and staying where they landed, on the damp Astronomy Tower floor - the very place where they had been painted on him in the first place.

He went straight to the owlery and quickly scribbled out a note to Dean Thomas, telling him to go to the Astronomy Tower immediately. He sent it anonymously, using one of the school barn owls.

He hurriedly returned to the tower and slipped quietly inside, leaving the door open so that he could hide behind it. As he waited in the shadows, he prayed that Thomas had received the note and followed its instructions, and that Weasley and Corner didn't move before he arrived.

He didn't have to wait long for his prayers to be answered.


	14. Chapter Fourteen: Don't leave me

Thanks to Sanguiyn my wonderful beta, who not only saves me from grammatical errors, but also dresses as a super hero when she does it.

**Disclaimer:**

Loosely based on '10 Things I hate about you', which was based on Shakespeare's 'Taming of the Shrew'.

You all know that I don't own the Harry Potter characters (JKR does). But if I did, something like this would happen to them...

The first thing Harry realised when he woke up was that he was naked. The second thing he noticed was that he was cold, even though he was wrapped up tightly in a blanket. He adjusted his glasses, which he had forgotten to take off last night, and looked around.

The clock on his bedside table told him that it was late in the morning, so all his dorm-mates would already be downstairs at breakfast.

Draco was on the far side of the bed. He was lying, fully dressed, on top of the bedcovers with his back facing Harry in dismissal. Harry felt a tiny flake break loose from the block of his confidence in Draco and drift away into a space of disappointment and anxiety.

Last night's warmth and intimacy had clearly diminished.

'I can make us go back to where we were,' he thought desperately, unravelling himself from his blanket and inching himself closer to Draco.

He slid a hand over Draco's hip to rest in the hollow of his waist. If Draco was asleep, the movement awakened him. He rolled half onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. Awkwardly, Harry bumped himself closer and hooked his knee over Draco's leg. When Draco didn't respond, Harry hoisted himself higher, almost to lie on top of him, and nuzzled Draco's jaw with his mouth. Even as he did it, he could tell that something was wrong.

Rather than drawing back, he rolled further across Draco and tried to establish a thirsty kiss. There was a weightless second in which Draco might have responded. But instead, he sat up abruptly and Harry sprawled sideways. His teeth snapped on a sliver of skin inside his lip and the pain of it made tears sting in his eyes.

"You should put some clothes on before your dorm-mates return from breakfast." Draco's voice had changed, almost back to the way it had been before their encounter in the Astronomy Tower.

Harry followed Draco's suggestion and got dressed, but he did it mechanically and painfully, disabled by Draco's coldness.

"Is everything alright?" Harry touched Draco's shoulder as he sat back down on the bed, trying to turn Draco's head so that he could see his face properly.

Draco kept his neck rigid, but when Harry didn't move his hand, he eventually turned his head and stared at him.

"Is everything alright?" he repeated almost mockingly. "No, I don't think so." There was a callousness in Draco that seemed almost brutal, and the way he stared at Harry's face was momentarily frightening.

Slowly, Harry let go of his shoulder, shaking his head as if to clear it after a ringing slap, while Draco turned away from him again. "Was it something I did? Something I said?"

"Yes," Draco answered shortly. "Something you said."

"What did I say? When did I say it?" Harry's chin and bottom lip jutted out, ready for further rejection, but his eyes were imploring.

"Last night, before you fell asleep," Draco replied. His voice remained cold and his face hard and emotionless.

Despite the look of Draco and the sound of his voice, Harry still wanted to crawl into Draco's arms and never move out of his reach again. "I didn't say anything before I fell asleep. At least I don't remember saying anything."

"You seriously don't remember?" Draco's face softened a little as he had the grace to look slightly surprised.

"No. What was it? What did I say?" Harry turned pleading eyes on him again, but Draco avoided them.

"Never mind, it doesn't matter."

"It does matter! You're obviously upset about it!"

"I'm not upset. And even if you hadn't said it, I would still feel the same. I've had it with the Gryffindor common room and sleeping in your bed, and being your boyfriend."

The words made Harry buckle with grief, his mouth stretched and saliva flooded his tongue.

"Don't say that! Maybe you just need a little bit of time on your own. Wait until tomorrow. Maybe you'll feel better then." He gasped desperately while reaching out to seize one of Draco's hands. "Maybe we'll be better then."

"My feelings are not temporary." Draco quickly snatched his hand away before Harry could take hold of it. "This isn't working. I want to break up with you."

Harry never experienced long goodbyes. People always left him so suddenly and unexpectedly that he never was given the chance to get ready for the loss of them. There never was any packing, never any proper goodbyes and all the tears were to be spent uselessly afterwards. It had happened with his parents and Sirius, and now it was happening with Draco. But, no matter how many times this unfairness had forced itself upon him, he wasn't prepared for it.

Draco's upcoming disappearance seemed such a terrible and random assault that it put every remaining corner of his world under threat. All the memories of warmth and certainty from last night started to drain away, leaving a place of yawning shadows and simmering questions.

What could he have possibly said that would cause Draco to want to leave him?

How was he supposed to go on without Draco?

Would anyone ever want him?

Was he destined to spend his entire life alone?

A sob cranked itself out of Harry's chest. He found it hard to breathe, and his skin crawled and itched so that he clawed one of Draco's forearms with his blunt nails.

"Take your hand off me," Draco said in a low voice, but Harry ignored him.

He bundled forward and piled himself into Draco's lap, an awkward mass of jutting elbows and knees. He clung to Draco, howling, "I'm sorry! Whatever it was I didn't mean it! Please don't leave me! Please!"

"Potter, get off me," Draco demanded through clenched teeth, not yielding into Harry's clutch.

Harry shook his head violently, bumping Draco's jaw. "No." The word was a stone in his mouth.

"I don't want to touch you anymore. Get off me." Draco still didn't move. He spoke so icily that Harry recoiled under another stab of despair.

Tears beaded at the corners of Harry's eyes and ran down his face. "Please Draco! I'll do anything! Don't leave me!" He buried his face into Draco's chest, his tears soaking into Draco's shirt, refusing to let Draco go.

"I said, get off me!" Draco finally exploded, pushing Harry roughly away from him, slamming him against the head of the bed.

The bed rattled violently and the back of Harry's head struck the headboard. He immediately grasped the place on his head that had come into contact with the bed, as a sharp pain caused it to pound agonisingly. He wasn't bleeding, but he could feel a particularly large bruise forming.

He slumped against the headboard and began to cry harder, oily tears running down his face and dribbling from his jaw. He hung his head forward and wept. It was like a thread of molten pain rising out of his throat and burning the cold air. His voice of pain echoed and shivered around them and seemed to catch and multiply. It went on and on until Draco scrambled off the bed and onto his feet. Feeling the sudden movement, Harry stopped and looked up at Draco.

Draco was gasping in anger and a red blaze burned on his cheeks, making the desolation of abandonment come fully down on Harry. Draco was angry with him. Draco was leaving him.

Later, Draco would realise that passion, not anger, had burned his cheeks and roughened his voice. But then real feelings weren't familiar to him, let alone naked ones; he was only used to faked sentiments and meaningless flirtations.

"I'm sorry. I screwed up." The words were whispered by Harry, when they should have been Draco's. Harry knew that apologising would be useless. Like Sirius and James and Lily, Draco seemed conclusively gone. He suddenly realised that 'gone' didn't necessarily mean 'dead'. There were other withdrawals and disconnections that were no less final. "I didn't mean to make you so crazy and angry."

Draco's eyes widened and his fists clenched as he turned red with anger. Harry flinched at his sight, expecting another push or even a blow, but Draco didn't move. He stood rooted to the floor breathing heavily, the space between them shimmering and splintering with threat.

"I'm not crazy!" Draco finally spat, before turning abruptly and leaving the room, his last shrill words vibrating endlessly.

"I'm sorry!" Harry yelled again at the void Draco left behind.

Misery almost choked Harry, tasting like acid in the back of his throat. He wanted to bury himself under his blanket, burrowing down into a security of blackness.

He lay back against his pillow, but the ceiling above him began a whirling that made his stomach heave, and the ground started to tremble beneath him. He sat up again, and concentrated on not being sick.

As the ground slowly levelled and the ceiling slowed in its rotation, he reflected on Draco's exit. It had been no more than an instant's flicker like a pale flame, but without Draco's closeness, sorrow expanded in his chest and rose into his mouth, more stifling than any nausea.

He drew his knees up to his chest and rested his chin on them, letting the tears run freely down his face as he took in the now empty room. The enormity of everything — the shadowed corners, the heavy old oak bedposts and the unmade beds surrounded by them — were suddenly frightening. Harry rocked his head on his bent knees and screwed up his eyes to ease the burning behind them.

He heard the dormitory door click open, and for a fleeting hopeful moment he thought it was Draco. He looked up and saw Seamus.

Seeing Harry gasping and sobbing, Seamus immediately climbed onto the bed and wrapped an arm around him, cradling his head to his chest. "What's wrong?"

Harry lifted his head and looked miserably up at Seamus before answering, "He broke up with me!" It came out as a whine instead of an explanation. "He broke up with me, and it's all my fault!"

"All your fault?" Harry could easily detect the confusion in Seamus's voice.

Harry nodded his head and buried his face into Seamus's chest again with a choked whimper. "He said that it was something to do with what I said last night, but I can't remember saying it and he wouldn't tell me what it was!" His voice was muffled, but Seamus could still understand him.

"You can't remember?" Seamus tried to soothe Harry's crying by resting his chin on the top of Harry's bent head and stroking his unruly hair, but Harry's sobs continued to get louder.

"We had sex and then I fell asleep! I don't remember saying anything! I've screwed everything up and I don't even know how!"

"I'm so sorry, Harry." Seamus sighed, and Harry felt the heat of his breath on his scalp. "You don't deserve to be hurt like this. Neither does Dean."

"What?" Harry froze, the river of tears seeming to dry on his face. "What happened to Dean?"

"He caught Ginny cheating on him with Michael Corner last night," Seamus explained regretfully. "He broke up with her immediately afterwards."

Harry wrenched himself out of Seamus's grasp. "Is he alright?"

"He's doing better than you are," Seamus observed, thumbing Harry's eyes dry for him. "Well, at least he's doing a good job at pretending he's alright. You know those silly straight boys, too proud to cry or even admit that they do."

Harry's tears stopped running, as he was deep in thought. "If Ginny and Dean have broken up then that means the pact is broken."

"Don't think about that now." Seamus pulled Harry back into another comforting hug. "It doesn't matter."

"Yes it does. You're not burdened by me anymore. You don't have to stay here. You can go be with Blaise." Harry appreciated Seamus's concern, but as soon as these thoughts came, he was uncomfortable with the weight of his arms and the thump of his heartbeat against his ear. Shortly after agreeing to the pact, he began to feel like the saboteur of Seamus's pleasure. And now that Draco had left him, he was starting to feel the same way all over again.

"Don't put me down with that, Harry. I'm not going to abandon you at a time like this, just because our pact is broken. Pact or no pact, I'm your friend and I have a duty to stand by you." Seamus was gentle, trying to soothe Harry, but Harry didn't want to be soothed. He needed to be alone now to taste the full flavour of his loss, to fondle it and explore its dimensions.

"You don't have too--"

"No, Harry, I insist," Seamus interrupted him. "I'll just go downstairs and tell Blaise that I can't hang out with him today."

Harry tried to object further but Seamus wouldn't cave. He gave Harry another reassuring squeeze, before getting to his feet and exiting from the room, assuring that he would be back soon.

After Seamus had left, Harry crumpled sideways onto the bedcovers, drawing his knees up to his chest and pulling a blanket over his head. Immediately in doing so, his breath stopped in his chest and his eyes squeezed shut; the blanket next to his face smelled of Draco's body.

The smell seeped through his nostrils, filling them like poison gas. He was overcome by his memory of last night, and the feelings of safety and happiness came with it like a glimpse of a lost world. He was desperate to know what he had said to offend Draco so much, but he simply couldn't remember.

He was locked into immobility, feelings the bubbles of another sob forcing their way up into his throat. He closed his eyes tighter and bit the inside of his mouth to contain it.

He had no idea how long he lay in the same position, hunched over, trying to bear Draco's scent. After a while he decided that he couldn't stand it any longer. The smell seemed to tease him, reminding him that he had almost defeated his inevitable solitude.

He pushed back the blanket, rolled sideways, and put his feet to the floor, each movement causing hot wires of pain to shoot through his joints. His feet were numb with cold, and the cramp in his legs almost made him stumble.

He ran to the door, and for a second it seemed that there was a weight pressing against it, trapping him in the room. But it yielded and banged open, and Harry ran down the stairs to the common room. He flew out of the portrait hole and ran down the corridor, his breath sticking in his chest as he searched for a place of refuge.


	15. Chapter Fifteen: The second plan

Thanks to Sanguiyn my wonderful beta, who not only saves me from grammatical errors, but also dresses as a super hero when she does it.

**Disclaimer:**

Loosely based on '10 Things I hate about you', which was based on Shakespeare's 'Taming of the Shrew'.

You all know that I don't own the Harry Potter characters (JKR does). But if I did, something like this would happen to them...

Blaise was sitting at the Slytherin table, happily munching on a piece of toast. There was no sign of Draco or Harry this morning, which to Blaise meant that they were still in bed together. The idea of such an upside made his mouth curve in a large smile. It immediately flattened, however, when he glanced over at the Gryffindor table.

Knives and forks clinked in an uncomfortable silence, and a fragile gloss of cordiality slicked over an undercurrent of tension which Blaise could sense all the way over at the Slytherin side of the hall. In an apparent effort to lighten the atmosphere, Granger and Weasley were talking too much, from opposite sides of the table.

Murmurs of conversation about this sudden change of ambience threaded through the other houses tables; breakfast at the Gryffindor table was usually a loud, rowdy affair.

"Pansy?" Blaise asked, turning to the girl next to him, knowing that she would have an explanation for this strange behaviour. "What's with the Gryffindors this morning?"

"Well…" Pansy let out the customary sigh for suspense she always used when she was about to share an important piece of gossip. "Thomas and the Weaselette broke up."

"What!? Why!?" Blaise dropped the piece of toast he was holding. It landed with a soft splat on his thigh.

"Thomas caught her cheating on him last night with…" She added another dramatic pause for good measure. "Michael Corner."

Blaise looked over to the Ravenclaw table, and, to his horror, found Ginny Weasley sitting there, hip to hip with Michael Corner, her lovely neck bent so she could whisper in his ear.

The shifting of her favours was obvious, but no one at the Gryffindor table was audibly remarking on it. Granger was frowning a warning at her, but she ignored it and Weasley's displeasure was only revealed in frequent sharp glances.

Thomas was merely looking on in silence, occasionally tipping his head back to swallow from his goblet of pumpkin juice. He had reorganised the plate of food Granger had pressed on him, but had eaten none of it.

"I don't believe this!" Blaise cried, trying to scrub the jam from his toast off his trousers with a napkin. "How could something like this hap-- oh fuck!" He crumpled up the napkin and threw it onto the table, realisation dawning on him.

"Looks like Draco carried out Step Four of the plan," Pansy said, spitting on a fresh napkin before using it to scrub away the jam Blaise had missed.

"You know about the plan?!" Blaise pulled himself away from Pansy in momentary shock.

"I can't help it if the walls connecting our dormitories are thin," Pansy said with a shrug, scooting closer to Blaise in order to resume cleaning the jam off his trousers.

"The walls are made of thick stone, you little sneak," Blaise scoffed. "You went and bought yourself some Extendable Ears from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, didn't you?!"

"Don't be ridiculous--"

"So that's how you do it!" Blaise continued to accuse. "You could single-handedly keep that shop in business at the rate you're going!"

"Oh, shut up!" Pansy snapped, throwing the napkin on the table next to the first. "I found a piece of parchment with the plan written on it in the drawer of Draco's bedside table the other week."

"You went through his things!?" As nosy as Pansy was, Blaise had never thought her capable of something that extreme.

"For your information, I was looking for my nail file," Pansy huffed. "I thought I left it in your room a while ago."

"And you expected to find it in Draco's drawer?"

"I was just quickly scanning--"

"For a nail file you could easily replace," Blaise interrupted her again. "You're lucky he didn't catch you. You know how short his temper is. Remember what he did to Theodore Nott back in fourth year when he borrowed his textbook without permission?"

"He hexed his balls off," Pansy replied shuddering, but also smiling slightly, at the memory.

"That testicles retrieval operation did not sound pleasant," Blaise added, also shuddering. "He spent two weeks in the hospital wing."

"And he was too scared of Draco to get him into trouble; he told Madame Pomfrey that he accidentally hexed _himself _in the balls."

"I can just imagine what he would do if he caught you…" It was Blaise's turn to pause for dramatic effect. "He'd probably rip all your finger nails off so that you would never have the need for a nail file ever again."

"Well, he shouldn't have something like that lying around anyway. Anyone could stumble across it," Pansy replied, coolly changing the subject, though Blaise noticed that she was now clasping her hands together tightly.

"Thanks for that," he replied sarcastically. "I'll mention it to him before _I _hex _his_ balls off."

"What's the problem?" Pansy asked, unclasping her hands and sitting on them. "He followed the steps properly, didn't he?"

"That's not entirely true…" This time Blaise's pause was not for dramatic effect. "Everything went according to _the_ plan, but I kind of had an ulterior motive."

"Of course you did," Pansy smirked. "Out with it then."

"I wanted Draco to settle down with someone himself. I thought that after being with Potter for a while, the idea would grow on him."

"You tried to trick Draco into falling for Potter while winning over Finnigan at the same time?" Pansy freed her hands in order to give a half-ironic slow handclap. "My, my, haven't you been a busy little Slytherin these past couple of months."

"And I'll be damned if all that work goes to waste," Blaise declared, getting up.

"Where are you going?"

"To find Draco… and lock my trunk and all my drawers before you lose another nail file."

"What the fuck happened last night?" Blaise shouted without preamble, marching into his dormitory and slamming the door shut behind him.

Draco was sprawled on his bed, his head bent over a book. Under his breath he made a small, dismissive sound, 'Tchuh', to show he couldn't care less about last night's events.

"What did you do last night?" Blaise repeated.

"Step Three." Draco's voice was cool and bored as he kept his focus on his book. "Step Four." He turned a page over. "And then this morning, Step Five."

"Obviously." Blaise wanted Draco's attention and he wanted to challenge him too. "You could have at least told me beforehand."

"Yeah right." Draco could feel Blaise's stare drilling into the side of his head, but he still didn't take his eyes off his book. "If I came in here, I would have got an eyeful of you fucking Finnigan. Besides, it's not as if you didn't know it was going to happen anyway."

"A heads-up would still have been nice. I had to find out from Pansy."

"We find out everything from Pansy."

"This is different."

"How's it different?" Draco finally looked up at Blaise. "People break up around here all the time. They're unfaithful to each other. It's not exactly an original story, is it?"

"That's not how all relationships work, Draco."

"Yes it is. Weasley and Thomas are proof of that."

"Weasley wouldn't have cheated on Thomas if we hadn't interfered."

Draco gave a low, disbelieving laugh and turned back to his book. "We didn't interfere."

Blaise was going to have to push the words out of him. "You mean Weasley cheated on Thomas without intervention?"

Draco sighed irritably, realising that Blaise wasn't going to leave him alone until he gave him a detailed account.

He told Blaise some of it, only the bones of it, without the precious details. He told him about walking in on Weasley and Corner in the Astronomy Tower and sending a tip-off to Thomas, but it wasn't enough to silence Blaise; he wanted to hear about something else that Draco failed to mention.

"What was it like? Sex with Potter."

"It wasn't anything amazing. It was just sex." Draco quickly looked back at his book, fumbling as he turned another page. He looked clumsy, and for once, uncomfortable with himself.

Blaise immediately noticed the change in Draco's tone; he was hiding something. He knew it wasn't _just _anything, however much Draco wanted to diminish it.

"So a bed didn't make a difference, then? Well, aside from giving you the ability to foresee the future."

Despite Blaise's sarcastic taunting, Draco seemed to have regained his composure. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You couldn't have known that Weasley and Corner were in the Astronomy Tower, so why did you go there?"

Draco paused halfway turning another page.

"Because I wanted to get away from Potter." It wasn't a lie, but it was still concealing part of the truth.

"How could you go from not being able to take your hands off him to wanting to get several floors away from him in such a short amount of time?" Blaise pressed on, determined.

He expected his question to send Draco into one of his familiar petulant outbursts, but Draco remained unperturbed. "I was only touching him in the common room for the sake of Step Three."

"I saw the way you looked at him!" A wave of frustration broke and washed over Blaise. "Something happened in between the common room and the Astronomy Tower last night! Why are you hiding it from me?"

"I'm not hiding it from you. It's just irrelevant."

They seemed to have switched places with each other over the course of last night; Draco confident and in control, and Blaise quickly losing his temper and patience.

"I still want to know!" Blaise cried, snatching the book from under Draco's nose and flinging it across the room. It was a pale thing compared to Draco's past tantrums, but it was still a change no matter how infinitesimal.

"You're becoming as nosy as Parkinson." Draco hadn't even flinched as the book landed with a loud thump on the other side of the room. He simply slid off the bed and went to retrieve it. "Potter told me he loved me."

Blaise's anger continued to flow in a seductive rush. "That is not irrelevant!"

"Yes it is." Draco went back to his bed and flipped his book open. "Since when has 'I love you' ever meant anything?"

"Since always! I'm sure it meant a lot to Potter!"

"No it didn't. He can't even remember saying it." Draco began to smooth out some of the pages that had been crumpled.

"Don't do that! Don't pretend you don't care!"

"I don't care."

"Yes you do! I see what this is!" Blaise gestured at Draco's relaxed position. "You finally realised your feelings for Potter and it scared you!"

"I never had feelings for Potter." Draco was completely withdrawn. He had placed a protective tower of stones all around him, and all Blaise wanted to do was scatter them and knock them down.

"I don't think so! I think you liked him from the beginning! The shame is that you don't have the guts or the wit to own up to it!"

"Don't be so sentimental."

"Just look at you! Pulling away! Always pulling away!"

"I'm not pulling away. I'm done. The plan worked. It's over. So quit bothering me and go to Finnigan. He's all yours now."

At that precise moment, the dormitory door opened and Seamus walked in, his face twisted with concern.

Draco returned to his book without even acknowledging him. Seamus glared at him briefly before turning to Blaise.

"I'm going to have to cancel our plans for today. Harry…" Seamus looked pointedly at Draco, but Draco continued to ignore him and idly turned another page in his book. "…isn't doing so well."

Blaise nodded, though he was slightly disappointed. His disappointment turned into fear when Seamus exited the room without even kissing him or hugging him goodbye, closing the door behind him.

Blaise stared at the closed door before turning back to Draco. "That's right! I have Seamus! Oh no, but wait! He's too busy consoling Potter, trying to repair the damage that you caused!"

When Draco made no response he corrected himself, "That _we_ caused."

"Don't take it out on me because you're feeling guilty," Draco said with a yawn.

"I'm not feeling guilty! I'm worried that Seamus is going to leave me because you left Potter!"

"He wouldn't do that. There's no pact anymore." Draco looked up to see that Blaise was not only angry, he was worried.

"It's not the pact that kept him loyal to Potter. He cares about him! _I _care about _you_ ! I care about you too much to watch you throw away your life just because you're too proud to admit that you have feelings for Potter!"

"I'm not throwing my life away. I'm returning to it."

"What if Seamus breaks up with me?" All thoughts of Draco and Potter had been swallowed up by Blaise's fear of losing Seamus.

"Not my problem." Draco gave another careless flick of his wrist and turned yet another page.

Blaise stared at Draco only for a moment before marching out of the room in the same way he had entered, slamming the door shut behind him.

He was going to make it Draco's problem.

Blaise flew out of the Slytherin quarters entrance and ran up the dungeon steps. Seamus was already halfway down the corridor.

"Seamus!" Blaise called, running to catch up with him. "Wait!"

Seamus stopped and turned around. "Blaise, I told you I can't--"

"I know," Blaise panted. "I need to talk to you about Draco."

"What about him? That he dumped Harry with nothing more than some pathetic excuse about him saying something?"

"It wasn't an excuse. Potter said something."

"Are you going to tell me? Or are you going to do what Malfoy did to Harry and keep it from me?" Seamus's resentment towards Draco was leaking onto Blaise.

"Of course not. I would never keep anything from you."

Seamus simply looked at Blaise expectantly.

"Potter told Draco that he loved him."

"That's it! That's the thing Harry can't remember saying!" Seamus gaped at Blaise.

Blaise held his head up, keeping his resolve firm; he wasn't going to let this come between Seamus and him.

"Harry says 'I love you' and Malfoy dumps him? I can't believe that even Malfoy could be _that _heartless." Seamus shook his head, trying to overcome this new information. "This is worse than I thought. Maybe you and I should call things off until--"

"No! Don't say that!" Blaise clamped a hand over Seamus's mouth before he could finish his sentence. "Draco feels the same way about Potter!"

"I'm not convinced of that, on the evidence," Seamus replied once Blaise had removed his hand.

"I know that Draco's acting like he doesn't care, but he really does want to be with Potter. Potter just… caught him off guard with his confession…" Blaise's voice blurred in his throat, then came out too high and hard. "We have to get them back together."

There was a brief silence, during which Seamus appraised what Blaise had said.

"I don't know about that, Blaise. Harry's been hurt enough as it is. I don't want to risk hurting him any more. We can't exactly force them together either."

"We've done it before."

"The pact was on then."

"What if I can get it back on?"

"How could you possibly do that? Dean is furious with Ginny and Ginny is practically glued to Michael Corner's side."

"I have an idea."

Seamus wanted to continue seeing Blaise, but he felt guilty after seeing the state Harry was in. But then, he remembered that the guilt would be passed onto Harry if he broke up with Blaise because of him. And guilt made Harry shrivel up and lose his courage, and Seamus didn't want to put Harry through that. It seemed that his only other option was to go along with what Blaise was suggesting.

So, after Blaise had finished telling him what his idea was, he nodded in agreement. "Okay, Blaise, but if Malfoy hurts Harry again, _I will hurt him_." His declaration was almost violent. He briefly kissed Blaise on the cheek before continuing down the corridor and returning to Harry.

Blaise stared after him, sighing in relief. He had been very close to losing him.

Breakfast was nearly over when Blaise re-entered the Great Hall. When he approached the Slytherin table, Pansy was eagerly giving her account of the Thomas/Weasley/Corner debacle to Millicent Bulstrode .

"I know that look," Pansy commented, as Blaise sat down in Millicent's place after she scurried off down the table to pass on the information she had just heard. "What are you up to now?"

"The second plan."

"You Slytherin you." Pansy rolled her eyes amusedly. "Are you going to tell me about it or are you going to risk having me go through your drawers instead?"

"I'm going to tell you," Blaise admitted. "But only because I need your help."

"What's in it for me?"

"You Slytherin you," Blaise parroted, glaring at her. "There's nothing in it for you, but if you don't help me, I'll tell Draco all about your little nail file escapade, which will probably result in the loss of all your fingernails."

"Okay, okay, I'm in," Pansy surrendered, holding up her perfectly manicured hands in defeat. "What do you want me to do?"

"Well, the first thing that needs to be addressed, before we can do anything, is the re-establishment of the Gryffindor Pact," Blaise explained. "And that can only happen when Thomas--"

"Whoa! Slow down, Captain Slytherin!" Pansy interrupted him. "I think I see where this is going, and there is no way that it is going to work."

"You have little faith."

"Just look at him!" Pansy pointed to Dean Thomas, who was now staring into the bowl of porridge Granger had just forced on him, looking as though he was seriously contemplating drowning himself in it. "He's devastated! Not to mention probably hoping that the Weaselette will drop Corner at any minute and come crawling back to him."

"Spot on, Pans." Blaise put his head to the side and smiled. "That's exactly what he wants."

"But--"

"And we can get Weasley to come crawling back to him by making her see him with someone else." Blaise's smile only broadened. "Not to mention she's embarrassed him by moving onto someone else so quickly. He's going to want to even the score. Everyone has a little Slytherin in them, even the saintly Gryffindors."

"When do you want me to do it?" Pansy asked, still not fully convinced.

"No time like the present."

"You want me to do it now?"

"Yes. Right now where Weasley can see."

"You seriously think that Weasley will come crawling back to him when she sees him with someone else?" Pansy snapped the cap off her lipstick and coloured her mouth, lifting a questioning eyebrow at Blaise.

"Yep," Blaise answered simply. "And if she doesn't, to have ourselves a pact again, that special someone else will just have to stay with him."

Pansy lowered her lipstick for a second. "And what if Thomas doesn't want that?"

"He's not going to want to be alone when Ginny isn't."

"I don't know how I feel about being Thomas's rebound," Pansy said, as Blaise began to brush imaginary dust off Pansy's shoulders in order to remind her of her task. "And when Draco figures out what we're doing, he is going to hex your balls off and rip out all my fingernails."

She wiggled her fingers in front of Blaise before using them to comb through her hair.

"By the time he figures it out, he will have already seen the error of his ways and been back together with Potter."

"You're amazingly self-assured. Has anyone ever told you that?"

"I tell myself that everyday, actually."

"How do I look?" Pansy asked, getting up.

"Nice."

"Nice? Don't go crazy, will you?"

"What do you want me to say? How about hot? You look like you put out big time, as it happens."

"Git," Pansy retorted, not without amusement.

"Good luck."

Blaise watched as Pansy waltzed over to the Gryffindor table and leant down to whisper in Thomas's ear. A smile broke over his face as he saw Thomas nod, get out of his seat and head out of the Great Hall, hand-in-hand with Pansy.

His smile broke into a large grin when he noticed that Ginny Weasley, along with all the other Gryffindors, was watching them too. What made Blaise grin wider still was the glare of jealous disbelief that washed over her freckled face.

There was no way this plan could backfire.

Harry felt that whichever way he tried to direct himself, there was a precipice yawning at his feet.

He sat down heavily on the Quidditch pitch, shuffling his back up against a convenient goal post. He had always resorted to flying in times of difficulty, but in his haste he had forgotten his broom, so he merely sat down instead, hoping that the pitch itself and his memories of flying would be enough to ease him.

Images of flying were indeed obstinately stuck in his head, and they jarred like misshapen jigsaw pieces against each other.

Pushing off the ground, air rushing through his hair, his robes whipping behind him. Seven Nimbus Two Thousand and One gleaming in the early morning sun. A pale, pointed face smiling nastily and throwing a glass ball high into the air.

They were suddenly memories that he didn't want to revisit, but they attacked all his senses. There was no sign of Draco, but he was everywhere. In the stands and in the goal posts, even his footprints seemed clearly printed in the tangled blades of grass.

Someone was coming across the pitch. Harry looked up and saw Seamus.

Seamus knew his friends perfectly. So when he returned to his dormitory to find that Harry was gone, he knew exactly where he would find him.

Unable to look at Seamus, Harry stared dully at the grass. It was pocked with dusty hollows and coarsened with weeds. Hagrid would soon tidy it up in preparation for the oncoming Quidditch season.

"I knew you would be here." Seamus's feet were planted in front of Harry. There were tiny tuffets of bleached grass hairs glinting on each of his shoes. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No." Harry heard how his blank monosyllable disconcerted Seamus. Miserably he added, "I'd rather we didn't."

"It's just…"

"_Please_," Harry begged.

His desperation silenced Seamus. "Okay, we don't have to talk about it," he murmured, flopping down on the grass next to Harry. "We can just sit here."

When Seamus turned his head to look at Harry, he was pained to see that the seams of Harry's cheeks were still glistening with tears.

From so many years of watching him and Malfoy fight, it was strange to see Harry breakdown and weep rather than bite back. Seamus understood that Harry would despise his own grieving, because he would interpret it as weakness.

Seamus inclined his head so as to seem not to notice Harry's tears. Then he took Harry's arm through his, feeling that he had to offer some more support.

The palm of Harry's hand when he touched it felt as brittle as a dead leaf, from being on his Firebolt too much.

A dead leaf was exactly what Harry was, Seamus thought, still clinging to the branch while the fat spring buds and new foliage in gaudy colours pushed out all around him as he held on at the top of his twig, waiting for the brutal wind to dispatch him.

A twisting sympathy for Harry that was all wound up with admiration and exasperation pulled at Seamus's heart. He would have given anything to make his friend feel happy again.

And at that moment, he fully believed that he and Blaise were doing the right thing.


	16. Chapter Sixteen: More than you can chew

Thanks to Sanguiyn my wonderful beta, who not only saves me from grammatical errors, but also dresses as a super hero when she does it.

**Disclaimer:**

Loosely based on '10 Things I hate about you', which was based on Shakespeare's 'Taming of the Shrew'.

You all know that I don't own the Harry Potter characters (JKR does). But if I did, something like this would happen to them...

It was a surprisingly hot day. The lake was a restless plate of ripples, and the dirt and sand that surrounded it was baked dry. At one end, under the shade of the beech trees, there were clusters of students, spread out on their discarded robes, lying between their encampments of textbooks and other study materials, though not much studying was being done. Instead, most of them were taking advantage of the ideal weather and running into the shallow water, kicking up arcs of spray and splashing each other mercilessly.

Dean and Pansy had immediately avoided the flurry of activity and were lucky enough to get the largest beech tree near the water's edge. The view of the lake and their peers rolled out in front of them, as if it had been set up by a director who wasn't afraid of using all the clichés to convey the perfection of a sunny day.

It had been a week since Pansy had approached Dean in the Great Hall, and in that time, she had discovered two things. Firstly, she got much more of a thrill being a part of the latest gossip than spreading it, and secondly, she actually enjoyed spending time with Dean Thomas. Yet, she always had the feeling that he was thinking about Ginny Weasley.

Weasley. Skewering them with her eyes. Jealous and dismissive at the same time. Blaise was right in his assumptions; she would probably crack any day now. The thought of it was not inviting. Pansy felt a connection to Dean and wanted to hold onto it.

Like most of her housemates, Pansy was a Slytherin first and a friend second, so she wouldn't even think twice of disrupting Blaise's plan. Plus, if things worked in her favour and Dean chose to stay with her instead of going back to Weasley, the pact would still be reinstated.

Slytherins always got their way, and this time would be no exception for Pansy. But as time went by, she found herself not only caring about her own interests, but about Dean's as well.

Dean was sitting on his robe that was spread out on the grass beneath them, his ankles crossed and his right fingers circling his left wrist. He was looking out to the lake, apparently watching Crabbe and Goyle wrestling in the water. But Pansy knew he was concentrating on Weasley, who had unobtrusively drawn closer to their spot.

Pansy moved her now bare feet in the grass, an impatient flurry of movement which made Dean turn his head and look at her.

"Would you really take her back if she asked you?" she asked, speaking her thoughts without preamble. Dean seemed surprised, not at the abruptness of her statement, but because it seemed as if they had all along been thinking in parallel.

"No, I wouldn't. Not anymore. I don't want to take a step back." He unlinked his hands, reached out to the coarse grass around them and punched a blade between his thumb and forefinger. "Besides, I think we were wrong. She'll never do it."

"I still think she will."

"She won't. I wasn't enough for her, that's why she went looking for something more." He twirled the stem of grass in his fingers. "There's a lack in me of whatever it is she needs, colour or strength or comedy, or maybe just sex, or most probably a mix of all those things and a few dozen others."

"That sounds like the answer of a weaker person than I think you are." She would not say it aloud, but she acknowledged that Dean was passive by comparison; a done-to guy rather than a doer. She saw nothing wrong with that, as long as nothing happened to take him away from her. "You have colour and comedy and all those other things, and you're certainly not weak. You're like a tree or a river."

She laughed a little now at her last comment, a low noise that made Dean look sideways at her tucked-in face. "I've been talking about her too much. I'm sorry," he said.

"Don't be. You have reason to. She left you in a big way." An ant had crawled onto Dean's robe. She immediately lunged at it, pinching it in between her silver fingernails. "It can't be easy for you."

"No, it isn't easy," he agreed. "This whole arrangement."

"I'm sorry. You don't deserve it."

Dean wondered why she should use those words. "I don't deserve you?"

"That's not what I meant," she said, a sudden breathlessness making her inarticulate. "In fact, I feel kind of guilty."

"Guilty?" Dean joked, lightening the mood. "Are Slytherins able to feel that?"

"Yes, we are," she replied, hitting him playfully on the arm before becoming serious again. "I'm glad she cheated on you. If she hadn't, you and I wouldn't be here together right now."

He considered her statement. The acknowledgement that their meeting was significant to her was important to him. It was something he needed to hear. "Don't feel guilty. Ginny is the guilty one."

Pansy had the impression there were unspoken negotiations taking place within this bland exchange. The realisation made heat prickle beneath her hairline, a sensation she knew had nothing to do with the warmth of the sun.

She wasn't a rebound, not as she had first imagined she would be. Almost without their acknowledgement, the issue between them had become bigger than that.

"If you were mine, I would have never let you go." She looked back to the lake; it seemed that Goyle had won the wrestling-match, standing triumphantly with his hands above his head, Crabbe spluttering and spitting water next to him. She looked back to Dean and saw that he was suddenly smiling.

He touched her wrist in order to get her to look at him, tipped his head forward and tilted it sideways a little, so that his mouth connected with hers. The kiss shivered though them. Pansy gave herself up to him and took the offering with pleasure. They had kissed many times in the past week, but this time it was different.

Pansy was slightly surprised. She hadn't needed the usual Slytherin trickery. Her honesty had been enough to get what she wanted.

It was a long time before they moved apart again, and even then he kept hold of her, both of them comfortable with the lake and the sky, and one another's company. They had come to a good place and nothing could happen to discolour it.

Seamus watched Harry carefully. The flames from the fireplace fanned upwards, washing his face with lurid light. His Firebolt was on his lap and his Broomstick Servicing Kit lay open on the couch next to him. He was clipping the tail-twigs of his broom so feverishly that Seamus was surprised there were any left. But while Harry looked as if he might be losing control, it was actually quite the opposite.

Harry had allowed himself one day of moping over Malfoy, but ever since, he had been spending all his free time on the Quidditch pitch, calling extra training sessions with the Gryffindor team and working them harder than ever.

The rest of the team had been so exhausted by the recent overwork that they had taken to going to bed without showers every evening after practice, some not even making it to their beds but collapsing on the common room couches and immediately falling asleep.

They were all aware of the reason why Harry had become more obsessive with the game and knew better than to complain about the extra practices to his face.

Seeing as Malfoy was the cause for their sudden exhaustion, they were all more eager than ever to thrash Slytherin in tomorrow's match.

Seamus was just about to open his mouth to tell Harry that he'd better put the clippers down otherwise he wouldn't have anything to fly on for the Gryffindor versus Slytherin match tomorrow, when a loud yell from upstairs startled them all.

_"Don't try and justify it to me! Don't ask me to share responsibility for what you did!"_

Everyone in the common room, except for Harry, looked up from what they were doing. Ron, who had been one of the players to fall asleep on the couch, awoke with a start and fell off the couch with a shocked grunt. Seamus became stuck on the edge of his seat, having himself almost fallen onto the floor. He began gnawing at the corner of his thumbnail, his face sharp-pointed and tight with anxiety. He knew that the shout had come from Dean.

_"We were getting really serious. I got scared, I lost my sense of direction and did things that I shouldn't have done!"_

_"When they get scared, most people hide under their covers, not between someone else's legs!"_

_"I know I've made mistakes! A ton! But I never make them twice! We can start again! It's not too late!"_

_"Yes it is! It was too late the moment you decided to sleep with someone else!"_

_"Dean, please! Just give me another chance!"_

_"How can I possibly take you back after what you did to me? How am I supposed to trust you anymore? I can't have a relationship with someone I don't trust!"_

_"I know that you're probably worried that I would cheat on you again, but it's different now! There's no more Michael Corner! He's gone! I miss you! I lie in bed at night and I think about us, about you holding me!"_

_"Don't do that!"_

_"Do what?"_

_"Touch me! Not after I know where else your hands have been!"_

_"Dean, listen to me! It was wrong, everything I did! I accept the blame! I feel more guilt than you could possibly imagine! I know that you're upset with me now, but time will heal it! We can make it work again!"_

_"No! I deserve better!"_

_"You don't mean Pansy Parkinson, surely! How can you trust her, a Slytherin, but not trust me?"_

_"What are you saying? That you have to be in Slytherin to be untrustworthy? Going by that logic, you should have been sorted into that house ages ago!"_

_"Don't say that! I'm not Draco Malfoy!"_

At the mention of Malfoy, Harry stopped abruptly in his clipping before hastily snatching up his jar of Fleetwood's High-Finish Handle Polish and applying so much of it to his broom that Seamus could clearly see his reflection in the handle. Harry was scrubbing so furiously that Seamus expected the broom to catch fire at any moment.

_"You're right! You are much worse than Draco Malfoy!"_

_"He dumped Harry without explanation! Who's to know he wasn't sleeping with someone else? At least I came clean! At least I'm here trying to set things right again!"_

At that, Harry threw his broomstick away so forcefully that it almost landed in the fireplace. A large purple vein was forming on his temple that could easily match Uncle Vernon's.

_"What an incredible lie! You didn't come clean, I caught you! And if I hadn't, you would probably still be sneaking around with Corner! I can't take this any longer! What you did was unforgivable, and what makes it worse is that now you're trying to make yourself look better by comparing our relationship to Harry and Malfoy's! Don't stand there blocking my way!"_

_"Don't go! We need to talk this thing out!"_

_"You cheated on me! You betrayed my trust! I have nothing more to say to you, Ginny! I made it perfectly clear in the Astronomy Tower! We're done!"_

The moment Dean burst from the room, Harry was on his feet, storming towards the portrait hole.

Ginny immediately came running after Dean, her face a brilliant shade of red; whether it was from yelling at Dean or enduring the gruelling four-hour Quidditch practice, it wasn't certain. It was clear, however, that, unlike Harry, Quidditch wasn't enough to distract her from her misery. As she caught up to Dean and grabbed his arm, Harry abruptly stopped at the portrait hole.

"Don't do that! I don't want you touching me anymore!"

"No! Not until you hear me out!"

Everyone in the room, except for Harry, was glancing fearfully from one to the other, as Dean tried to rip his arm away and Ginny strengthened her grip. Harry remained stuck in the doorway, glancing from the exit back to the room, only subconsciously aware of the battle taking place in front of him.

Ginny and Dean struggled and fought, and as they did so, anger, compounded of the melancholy screaming, fiery eyes and fingers digging into flesh flooded through Harry's body, like a sensation returning to a numbed limb.

"Let go of me!"

"I'm sorry! I screwed up! Give me another chance! Please!"

The room seemed to rock and shake, in time with another similar battle that was raging in Harry's head, while Ginny tugged at Dean, tightening her grasp as the shouting grew louder.

"I said, let go of me!"

"We can go back to the way we were!"

"I won't let you do this to me! I won't let you get away with what you've done!"

It was Harry's voice, not Dean's or Ginny's that shouted the final reply. His voice was uncontrollably loud and everyone could hear the raw vibration of anger in it.

Strength fuelled by exasperation made Dean finally break free of Ginny and the shouting cease. Needles of control darted into Harry's brain and a crown clamped around his throbbing temples, controlling the cage of anger which had become the size of another individual shrieking inside him.

Dean rubbed the arm that Ginny had assaulted and looked at her as if to say 'Yeah, what he said', while everyone else in the room stared incredulously at Harry.

Wanting to break the uncomfortable silence, Seamus picked up Harry's Firebolt from the foot of the fireplace and walked over to the portrait hole.

"Are you okay?" he asked gently, handing Harry his broomstick.

"Peachy," Harry snapped, taking his broom.

"I know that Malfoy has done some really horrible stuff in his time, but cheating on you isn't one of them." Seamus spoke softly so that no one else could hear.

He hadn't had the chance to console Harry properly over the past week. The name 'Malfoy' had become taboo in Gryffindor Tower, no one daring to pronounce it, not even to bad-mouth its owner. Even though this unspoken rule had been momentarily broken by Ginny, Harry still ignored Seamus's attempt.

"You don't know that," he replied simply, swinging his Firebolt over his shoulder.

"There's another explanation, something that isn't as sinister. You don't know what it is, that's all."

"Whatever," Harry said bitterly. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to bed. And I suggest you all do the same." He looked pointedly at the rest of the Gryffindor team. "We have a Quidditch match to win tomorrow."

Everyone in the room was surprised at Harry's composure as they watched him climb the stairs and disappear into his dormitory.

Seamus remained standing in Harry's previous place at the portrait hole, scrutinising the exit in the same way Harry had done, weighing up his options. He looked back into the room to where Ginny was bawling in Hermione's arms as she led her upstairs to the girls' dormitories; Neville was murmuring something to Dean, patting him comfortingly on the back. Ron had climbed back onto his couch and fallen asleep, filling the room with his loud, familiar snores.

It only took one more glance at the portrait hole for Seamus to make up his mind.

Blaise was bored. He had finished all of his homework and now, without Seamus's usual company, had nothing to do.

After a whole hour of sitting in the Slytherin common room, irritably drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair, he couldn't take it any longer.

He ended up going to the kitchens and, grabbing as many cupcakes as he could carry, returned to the common room and dumped them all in front of Crabbe and Goyle, promising to give five Galleons to the one who could fit the largest amount into their mouth.

He was cringing in amused disgust as Goyle managed to squeeze in cupcake number nine, when Seamus came charging into the room.

"It failed!" Seamus yelled so loudly that it caused Goyle to jump and spit out all the contents of his mouth onto the floor.

Some of the crumbs and icing landed on Blaise but he ignored it.

"What?" he whispered, pulling Seamus into a corner of the room so that nobody else could hear them.

"Your plan failed," Seamus replied, adopting a quieter tone. "Ginny almost pulled Dean's arm off in her begging, but he still refuses to take her back."

"It's okay. We can work around this." Blaise stroked Seamus's cheek with his fingers, misreading his concern. "We'll just get Pansy to stay with him."

"No." Seamus slapped Blaise's hand away. "That would be a lie."

"Well, yes," Blaise admitted, slightly taken aback.

"I don't want to lie to my friend," Seamus said sternly. "And I certainly don't want him going out with someone under false pretences."

"But I'm doing this for Potter and Draco. And for us, so that we can be together." Blaise reached out, took Seamus's hand and held it tightly so that he couldn't get pushed away again.

"I know you are and I appreciate that, but it's selfish and wrong of us," Seamus said, allowing Blaise to keep hold of his hand. "These are my friends we're messing with, and my friends are important to me. I could never forgive myself if we did something that would end up hurting them, no matter how good our intentions were."

"I don't want to hurt them either," Blaise assured.

"Then we've bitten off more than we can chew." Seamus sighed. "If we continue on with the plan, someone is bound to get hurt. We were stupid to think that we could handle other people's lives for them. It was a bad idea from the start. I want to put an end to it."

"Me too."

Pansy's voice surprised them both. She was standing next to them. She had heard Seamus's initial shout from her dormitory and came out to investigate the potentially gossip-worthy commotion.

"Pansy?" Blaise threw her a warning look as if to say, 'Forget about your fingernails, say goodbye to your hands!'

"I don't want Dean to go back to Ginny when she asks. She had her chance with him and she blew it."

"Well, we don't have to worry about that," Seamus told her. "She already tried and he said no."

"Really?!" Pansy's squeal was almost deafening. It was Crabbe's turn to jump and cough out all his cupcakes onto the floor next to Goyle's.

"Pansy…" Blaise gave her another look of warning.

"I want to go out with him for real," Pansy explained before Blaise could take out his wand and act on his unspoken threat.

Both Seamus and Blaise gaped at her.

"I thought that you were only doing this as a favour for Blaise," Seamus said suspiciously. "Did he put you up to this?"

"No," Pansy responded quickly, fearing Blaise's wrath if she answered with the whole truth.

Before Seamus could question her any further, she gave another loud, girlish squeal and ran past Crabbe and Goyle, who had started filling their mouths with cupcakes again, and exited from the room.

After she had disappeared, Seamus clicked his tongue crossly. "She'd better be telling the truth."

"She is," Blaise replied firmly, though he was a little shocked. "Who can blame them? Gryffindor/Slytherin romances have become quite popular lately. Pansy and Thomas make number three."

"Two," Seamus corrected, and for a frightening moment Blaise thought that he was eliminating theirs. "We can hardly count Harry and Malfoy at the moment, can we?"

"I guess we can't," Blaise agreed. "Not for now at least."

"Harry and Malfoy are very stubborn. We shouldn't get our hopes up."

"I know that they both want to be with each other."

"Oh yes, that's why they've been avoiding each other all week!" Seamus sarcastically retorted. "Not to mention they will most probably start yelling at each other the moment they get on their brooms tomorrow!"

"You're yelling at me, but I still want to be with you," Blaise said in a small voice, making an appealing face that caused Seamus to stop and sigh.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap but I just can't stand the way things are at the moment." Seamus placed his hands on Blaise's waist and pulled him close, in a hug that had become very rare in the past week. "That's no excuse for yelling at you. It's not like Harry and Malfoy's break-up was your fault."

Blaise felt a tiny pang of guilt at this, but he decided to ignore it, figuring that it didn't matter anymore because he was going to set it right again.

"You know…" He wrapped his arms around Seamus's neck and whispered in his ear, "…Draco just left for Quidditch practice. You can come upstairs."

Seamus pulled away from him slightly and gave him a disappointed look. "Not tonight."

Blaise nodded in understanding. "Damage control?"

"Something like that." Seamus suddenly smiled, before giving Blaise the longest kiss he had had all week.

"Sorry," Blaise mumbled when the kiss unfortunately ended.

"It's alright. I know that everything will turn out okay in the end. I trust you." Seamus smiled again and kissed Blaise briefly on the lips one more time before turning and heading back to Gryffindor Tower.

Blaise stared longingly after him, but his trance was broken when Goyle clapped him on the back, gesturing wildly to his mouth.

Blaise dropped five gold coins into Goyle's outstretched podgy hand, not even bothering to count the number of cupcakes that he had wedged into his over-packed mouth, and retreated to his dormitory, alone.

**Author's Notes: **Please review!


	17. Ch 17: Gryffindor versus Slytherin

Thanks to Sanguiyn my wonderful beta, who not only saves me from grammatical errors, but also dresses as a super hero when she does it.

**Disclaimer:**

Loosely based on '10 Things I hate about you', which was based on Shakespeare's 'Taming of the Shrew'.

A quote from Shakespeare's 'Macbeth' and the television show 'Scrubs' alert in this chapter two ;-)

You all know that I don't own the Harry Potter characters (JKR does). But if I did, something like this would happen to them...

By eight o'clock on the morning of the Gryffindor versus Slytherin Quidditch match, preparations in the Great Hall were in full swing.

Ginny sat in unaccustomed stillness next to Hermione at the Gryffindor table, while her housemates made considerate detours around her, pinning scarlet rosettes to their jackets and painting each other's cheeks with red and yellow G's. Harry and Ron dropped into the empty seats on Hermione's other side.

Harry eagerly began to pour himself a goblet of pumpkin juice and asked Hermione to pass the kippers.

Ron, on the other hand, was a sickly shade of green, which clashed horribly with the red and gold attire of everyone else at the table. He didn't even dare look at the food laid out in front of him. The sight of the slabs of butter and greasy bacon would undoubtedly unsettle his stomach further.

"Eat! You need your strength for the game!" Harry demanded, piling the kippers that Hermione had passed to him onto Ron's plate.

A shadow fell across the plate as Harry was adding some bacon, and he turned around to see Colin Creevey.

His camera was at his eye again, and Harry frowned into the lens, making Colin lower it without clicking the shutter.

"Hiya Harry! Ready for the match?" Colin said cheerily, tapping his camera and pointing proudly to his forehead, which had 'Potter' written across it in thick red paint. "I'm going to get a great shot of you catching the Snitch!"

Ron watched Colin's retreating back before pushing the plate of grease smeared bacon and kippers as far away from himself as possible.

"Excellent flying conditions!" Harry pointed up to the ceiling where the sky was an unbroken bowl of china blue.

Ron could only nod grimly in response.

"You'll be fine, Ron!" Harry pushed the plate of food back towards him. "Just remember, I want you to use the double eight loop, not just in penalties because…"

Hermione, not wanting to be subjected to another conversation about Quidditch, turned her attention to Ginny.

The latter was staring at the entrance to the Great Hall, her bottom lip stuck out in a mixture of worry and depression. Hermione followed her gaze to the doorway, where Pansy and Dean had just appeared.

Pansy was curving her pliant body inwards so that her thigh and shoulder touched Dean's, his arm resting lightly around her waist.

"It's too late, isn't it?" Ginny suddenly said, and Hermione was reminded of their early years at Hogwarts when Ginny had been infatuated with Harry.

There had been nothing alluring about Harry then. He was just a scrawny, awkward little boy. Yet the less obtainable he'd become, the more Ginny had desired him.

Hermione figured that the same thing was now happening with Dean. He was good-looking, kind, ordinary; nothing to entice Ginny beyond the point of reason other than the girl who was now firmly attached to his side.

Ginny wasn't looking at Hermione, so she couldn't tell whether she had asked a question or wanted her to confirm what she already knew in order to make herself more comfortable with it.

Hermione waited for a sign, but there was nothing. In the end, she simply answered, "Yes."

From the Slytherin table, Draco had noticed Pansy and Dean's arrival as well.

At the sight of the couple, he simply put down his knife and fork, neatly positioning them. Then he was on his feet, pushing himself away from the table. "No."

The crash of Draco's chair shook Blaise, who had been staring after Seamus and hadn't noticed Pansy and Dean.

"Draco?" Blaise reached out a restraining hand, but Draco shook it off.

"No," Draco repeated, before turning from the table and leaving.

"Draco!" Blaise called, slightly confused. Tripping out of his own seat, he noticed Pansy and Dean near the doorway and started to catch up to Draco. He had expected this kind of reaction and was prepared for it.

"You think you're so clever, don't you?" Draco said, sensing Blaise following him from behind. "Think you've got it all sorted out. What did you bribe Parkinson with? Or did you just play the sympathy card like you did with me?"

"I'll have you know that Pansy isn't in on anything like that. She has genuine feelings for Dean. This is pure coincidence."

"Finnigan starts sleeping in his own bed and then the pact is miraculously back on, because of none other than Pansy Parkinson. Yeah. Coincidence." Draco's voice was dripping with sarcasm. "You'd better find someone else to go along with what you're planning because the pact means nothing to me."

"What about Potter?" Blaise winked at Pansy as she passed by with Dean on her way to the Slytherin table. "You wouldn't mind if he started seeing someone else?"

"Mind?" Draco scoffed, scrunching up his nose in disgust at the passing couple. "I wouldn't even notice! I only helped you the first time because I didn't have a choice!"

They were out in the empty Entrance Hall now, and Draco's words echoed loudly around them, causing him to lower his voice. "You asked me. I couldn't refuse."

"That's your answer for everything lately," Blaise said, lowering his own voice, "as if Potter had been forced on you, as if you didn't make your own decisions. I know you, Draco. I've known you since we were kids. You never do anything you don't want to."

"I _wanted _to break up with Potter. I _wanted_ to be free of your plan."

"If I remember correctly, it was _your_ plan," Blaise accused, his even tone not changing. "I only asked for the dance and the library. The rest was all your doing. 'A crafty, devious, Slytherin-style plan that will benefit us both', you said. Only it wasn't about being Slytherin and it wasn't about Seamus and me, it was all about you and Potter."

"I saw a chance to humiliate Potter and I took it!" Draco was angry now, with a quick defensive heat.

"You didn't want to humiliate him, you just plain _wanted_ him. You only convinced yourself that you were going with the plan because it would hurt him and help me. You couldn't handle the fact that you had it bad for him."

"I couldn't handle you being so dead set on Finnigan! I figured that the sooner you got him out of your system, the better!" The effort to keep his voice low in his anger caused Draco to spit and hiss, like a venomous snake.

"Because that's how all relationships work, isn't it, Draco?" The gentle breeze of Blaise's composure dropped slightly, as he too became defensive. "You can just forget them and rub them out. Toss them aside like an old rag once you're done with them and screw the next person who comes along."

"You should be careful with what you say," Draco breathed, articulating slowly, pushing out the words between his teeth to prevent himself from hissing. "What filthy things you say about our parents."

Suddenly and without warning the statement was there, and Blaise knew what it meant and was amazed by its sharp completeness. He fell silent, looking into his own childhood memories for the spectres that hid there.

The ligaments joining history and today were thick and ugly, and too strong to be severed. Draco's awkward behaviour and irritating needs and hurts made more sense when they were connected to Lucius and Narcissa.

It was the same tangle that caught Blaise too, but he dealt with it differently from Draco, who proved to himself with others that it was no big deal – sex or love – if that was what it was supposed to be. Draco didn't understand that he really was free to choose, or at least try to be brave and set himself free.

Was that the case? Blaise wondered. Did Draco not feel he had the luxury of any choices in the plodding discomfort of his daily existence, or was he really just as self-absorbed as Narcissa, and as cold-hearted and arrogant as Lucius?

Like his parents, Draco had always been very sure of everything. Of his own worth and that of his family. Of his place in the world. Of what he expected of himself and everyone around him. It was this sense of order and expectation that he was trying to convey to Blaise, but his world view was askew; it was and had been balanced on the wrong fulcrum.

He was coming out like a frightened child instead, a six-year-old version of himself, scared of the dark. Not because of its unknown cavities, but because he knew too well what people were capable of when the lights went out.

"A little criticism is necessary, especially for someone who is as ignorant as you."

"You're the one with the distorted view." Draco advanced and pressed his face close to Blaise's. "You're wrong. The plan, and this second plan or whatever it is you are doing, _is_ all about you and Finnigan. Potter is more important to him than you are, and you're scared of losing him. You got one thing right, though. The plan certainly wasn't about being Slytherin. It rejected everything that our house stands for. It challenged the roles that we were born to fill."

"I didn't realise that by helping you find love, I would be challenging the role that you were _born to fill_!"

"_Find love_?" Draco gave a harsh hoot of laughter. "What are you, reporting for 'Witch Weekly' or something? Well then let the headlines show that he was the one who admitted to falling in _love_ with me, not the other way round!"

"You didn't have to admit anything that night. I saw it all on your face--"

"I know what you saw." Draco rapped out the words, cutting Blaise snort. "What you _thought_you saw."

"Five seconds later you were wrapped around him tighter than Devil's Snare."

"Fuck you," was all Draco spat in return. He swung around and Blaise automatically stepped back and stumbled.

"You're jeopardising my relationship for your own petty goals of harlot!" Blaise shouted, floundering for something to say as he righted his footing. The breeze had picked up again, turning into a forceful wind of anger that matched Draco's.

"And you're trying to convince me that I'm in love with Potter just so you won't have to start sleeping alone again!" Draco yelled back, not pausing in his retreat. "I told you, I'm not going anywhere near him!"

"It's a lot harder to avoid people than it is to face them!" Blaise shouted louder as Draco drew further away. "You can't ignore Potter forever, especially not today."

Draco was now at the front doors, pushing them open. Before they could flap shut again, he was outside, whipping himself around in time to throw Blaise an angry scowl. "Watch me."

Seamus was sitting in a sea of Gryffindor red in the stands overlooking the pitch, his chin resting on one hand. He was surprised when he saw a ripple of green, and lifted his head to see Blaise hovering above him.

"Blaise?" he asked, gaping like a fish at him in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"I've come to watch the match with my boyfriend," Blaise replied matter-of-factly, eying Seamus's outstretched legs. "We planned to watch it together, remember?"

"Yes, well, things don't always turn out the way we pla--"

Before Seamus could finish his sentence, Blaise dropped heavily into his lap. Seamus didn't push him away, as Blaise had half expected he might. He held Blaise loosely, resting his cheek on the top of his bent head. "We can't. The pact."

"They're together. They're playing Quidditch."

"They're together, but they're not _together_," Seamus corrected.

"They weren't _together _that time in the library, but it didn't stop you." Blaise smirked, picking persistently at the three-cornered tear in the pocket of Seamus's trousers.

"If you think that I'm going to let that hand of yours advance any further out here, you are clearly mistaken." Seamus lightly slapped Blaise's hand away.

"Want to sneak off then?" Blaise suggested, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"You don't get any until Harry does, so quit trying."

"Interesting." Blaise furrowed his forehead in mock contemplation. "Because the way I see it, Harry is riding his broom. _Riding his_--"

"Nice try, but Slytherin still won't be _scoring_," Seamus teased, though he went on breathing with his mouth against Blaise's hair. "Not until that idea of yours works out anyway. Speaking of which, what did you have planned next?"

"Nothing. We wait."

"Wait for what?" Seamus asked suspiciously.

"Anything, really." Blaise shrugged. "For Draco to fall off his broom and for Potter to rescue him."

"You are not causing Malfoy to fall off his broom, no matter how much he deserves it!" Seamus shrieked at Blaise, slightly pulling away from him.

A gust of laughter shook Blaise's chest convincingly. "Merlin. No, no. I just mean that they might sort things out themselves."

"Hoping they'll have a reconciliation while they're hundreds of feet in the air is a shit plan! It's not even a plan at all!"

"I know, but I think maybe I shouldn't push Draco so much anymore. It seems to have a reverse effect. What happens is what happens."

"What brought this on?"

At first Blaise didn't answer. Seamus thought he was preparing to lie, but then Blaise lifted his gaze and looked straight into his eyes. "Draco and I had an argument at breakfast."

"And it was so bad that you now want to hex him off his broom?"

"I told you I'm not going to do anything like that!"

"I don't believe you. Give me your wand."

"It's not on me," Blaise said dismissively. "I'd be happy to let you hold my other wand, however."

"Yet another futile attempt by Slytherin to get it through the hoop." Seamus rolled his eyes. "That's enough sexual innuendo for today."

Blaise looked thoughtful before responding. "In your-endo!"

In the Gryffindor changing room, the team had changed into their scarlet Quidditch robes and were listening to Harry deliver a pre-game speech, something he had never felt obliged to do in the past.

The words poured violently out of him and spittle was beginning to gather at the corners of his mouth.

"Peakes, Coote, I've changed my mind about the Backbeats. They're too risky. You've been pulling them off fairly well during practices, but I want to give them a little bit more work before you use them during a game. Ginny, Katie, Demelza, same as the Beaters, try and avoid any reverse passes."

Unable to stand still, Harry paced the room back and forth in a frenzy of contained energy, prowling from corner to corner and gesturing wildly to his team-mates whenever he mentioned them.

"I don't want to see anyone, except Demelza, attempt the Sloth Grip Roll. Dodge Bludgers using one of the other ways we practised. The best offence is a good defence. This is Slytherin we are dealing with. We can't trust them to play by the rules. Expect their usual blagging, blarching, blurting, cobbing, lying, cheating--"

A loud roar from the stands above interrupted Harry's rant.

"It's time." Harry wiped his mouth on his sleeve and grabbed the handle of his broom, spinning it aggressively. "Good luck, everyone."

There wasn't even a stirring of a breeze as they strode out to the centre of the pitch where Madame Hooch and the Slytherin team were already assembled.

A silver whistle was dangling from Madame Hooch's neck, and her broomstick was under her arm, a large wooden crate placed at her feet.

"I want a nice fair game, all of you," she said, speaking particularly to the Slytherin team, as usual.

There had been so many Quidditch matches, so many variations on this same rigid routine of Gryffindor/Slytherin rivalry, with the same insults and sneers dispensed. Each of them was used to it, familiar with his or her place in the scheme.

Out of everyone, Harry and Malfoy had the longest and most complicated history of games won and lost on the pitch.

Harry's grip on the Snitch had never loosened. As regards Quidditch, he had never lost to Malfoy, and the thought gave him a novel thrill of power.

He had never wanted to beat Malfoy so badly, and he could secure his victory by crossing the Quidditch pitch and looking straight into Malfoy's eyes, unrelenting and daring, just as he had always done.

Amongst the safety of his protective Gryffindor circle, he sought out Malfoy's face. But Malfoy wasn't sneering at him like he had for many Quidditch matches in the past. He was staring at the ground.

Malfoy was mean-spirited and neglectful. If there was a culprit it was him, not Harry. A longing for a full-fledged war swelled in Harry's throat; a vicious one that would rip their separate layers and expose the flesh. After which, there could be a truce, or at least more of an understanding.

Harry thought he knew Malfoy well, but even so, he was shocked by the extent of his withdrawal.

Draco stared at his feet, at the ground, anywhere but into the ring of Gryffindor faces where Harry was standing. Among all the cries and laughter and cheers, he could hear nothing but a question vibrating between them with a tuning fork's meticulous note.

If he had only listened, he would be able to understand its language; maybe interpret the warning it was whispering to him. It was like breeding an extra sense that was not yet ready to use, a painful knob under his skin to which his fingers kept returning, pressing to test the growth. He rubbed his forehead with his fist and tried to focus on what he was supposed to do.

_Forget Blaise. Ignore Potter. Catch Snitch. Forget Blaise. Ignore Potter. Catch Snitch._

Draco repeated this mantra in his mind over and over, but his concentration was shredding, splitting into fragments.

"Mount your brooms, please," Madame Hooch commanded, kicking the wooden crate open, and the four balls burst into the air.

Draco saw the Golden Snitch for the briefest moment before it sped out of sight.

Madame Hooch mounted her own broom and kicked off the ground. Once she was in the air, she blew her whistle.

Fourteen brooms shot into the air after her and the game began.

The Chasers from each team swarmed out of their places into an immediate scurry for the Quaffle. Gryffindor's energy was like none of their practice games. They sprang to life with great alacrity, Katie Bell grabbing hold of the Quaffle first.

"Katie Bell from Gryffindor has the Quaffle." Luna's Lovegood's dreamy voice floated over the pitch. "She's been on the team for a rather long time. She's very good. Oh, that boy from Slytherin--"

"Vaisey," Professor McGonagall could be heard barking.

"Yes, that boy has it now. I hope she can get it back."

"Whose idea was it to give Loony Lovegood a megaphone?" Draco muttered as he passed the commentator's podium on his first lap around the pitch.

Luna Lovegood sat in front of a magical megaphone, sporting her infamous lion-topped hat and necklace of Butterbeer corks. Professor McGonagall was looking slightly uncomfortable in the seat beside her, casting disdainful glances at the unusual choice of headwear.

"Should I ask her to be more careful of what she says?" Potter shouted, flying underneath him on his Firebolt, making his own way around the pitch. "I wouldn't want her to make the same mistake I did!"

Draco opened his mouth, but no scathing reply came to him. He blamed his inability to respond on the heavy, black Bludger that came pelting towards him a few moments later. He avoided it just in time, feeling it ruffle his hair as it passed.

"Sorry, Malfoy, I meant Potter," Goyle called, using his club to point over to the other Seeker, who was now on the other side of the pitch.

"Then maybe you should try aiming the Bludger to where he actually is," Draco snapped, the retort leaving his mouth easily.

"Oh, she got it back. I knew that she would."

"That's Demelza Robins not Katie Bell!"

"Are you sure? It looks like Katie Bell to me. They're all moving so fast, it's a wonder I can see anything at all. Could we ask them to slow down a bit? My eyes are starting to--"

"GRYFFINDOR SCORE!" Professor McGonagall shouted so loudly that she barely needed to speak into the megaphone to be heard.

The Gryffindors, along with the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws in the crowd, broke into a loud applause that filled the stands.

As the game continued on throughout the day, Draco's concentration continued to waver. Having no idea what the score was, he glided over the game, squinting about for the Snitch.

Whichever way he directed himself, Potter kept materialising like some avenging angel. He shot past Draco so fast every time, Draco had no chance to rebuke him.

_Ignore Potter._

If Draco focused on Potter – and there was no conscious effort in that, the thought of him filled his head, and he saw the blur of raven hair and green eyes in every passing – there was always the accompanying swell of feelings that he didn't understand or welcome, and the hopelessness of wishing that he could be left alone.

Disliking Potter over the years, steadily hating him, had made a guilty cloud that still hung around Draco. But feeling regret for driving him away didn't make any difference to his mistrust and resentment of him. He was a _Malfoy_, he shouldn't feel for Potter in any way, let alone a way only Blaise seemed to notice.

He knew that Blaise was probably watching him from the stands. If he started an argument with Potter, he would undoubtedly end up in a conversation similar to the one he had had with Blaise this morning.

Draco tried to remain slick and thoughtless, pretending to dismiss every movement Potter made with a shrug and a single sarcastic lift on his eyebrows, even though it only unsettled him further.

"Leave me alone, Potter!" The statement came out of nowhere. Once it was spilt, it was like a drop of acid, smoking then burning a hole in the thin sheet of his tolerance.

"Am I again doing something that upsets you, Malfoy?" Potter swerved around and flew forward, so that they were only a few feet apart. It was the closest they had been all week. Potter was using sarcasm now, their familiar weapon. "I really should try to be more considerate."

"You got dumped. You're not the only person in the world to suffer from it. Grow up, Potter. Get on with your life." Draco backed away from him, reversing on his broomstick.

"Fine." Potter came further forward still and Draco automatically retreated by the same measure. It was as if they were dancing together. "But if you don't want me anymore, if you want to leave me, don't make this about what I do and what I say. And have the decency to admit that you're only behaving like this because you're a coward."

Draco paused in mid-air, the statement hitting him like a gush of icy water. He turned around sharply, almost knocking Potter off his broom in the process; it was his fault for being so close. He glared back at Harry in anger, a scornful remark on the tip of his tongue–

CRACK!

Behind Potter, Goyle gave a Bludger a powerful whack in their direction. It pelted towards them with dangerous speed, and Potter, busy glaring back at Draco, couldn't see it.

Draco's brain went numb, and with no clear thought or awareness, he whipped around and charged forward. He slammed into Potter, grabbing hold of him and knocking him sideways, out of the Bludger's path.

"Who could refrain that had a heart to love and in that heart courage to make love known?" Luna Lovegood's vague voice could be heard over the roar of rage from the Gryffindors in the stands.

"Stop talking gibberish! That's a foul by the Slytherin Seeker, penalty to Gryffindor."

"Penalty? But Draco Malfoy just saved Harry Potter from being hit by that Bludger."

"Of all the things you have said today, Miss Lovegood, that was by far the most ridiculous – GINNY WEASLEY TAKES THE PENALTY SHOT AND SCORES! GRYFFINDOR LEAD, ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY TO TWENTY!"

"I would have got him that time, Malfoy!" Goyle called over the loud applause from the Gryffindor crowd. "You didn't have to hit him yourself!"

"Get off me!" Harry shrieked, pushing away from Draco and flying as far away as possible to the other end of the pitch, hump-shouldered and frowning.

Malfoy hung in mid-air, not hearing Goyle or any of the cheers around him, his arms hanging clumsily at his side.

"Look at Draco Malfoy. It looks like a Wrackspurt's got him. I thought I felt one buzzing around out here." Luna flapped her hands vigorously at thin air, causing her hat to tip slightly off her head.

"What in Merlin's name are you talking about now, you silly girl?!" Professor McGonagall hissed.

"Wrackspurts," Luna said, righting her lion hat. "They're invisible, they float in through your ears and make your brain go fuzzy."

Draco couldn't have explained to anyone how it felt to hold Harry in his arms for those few, fleeting moments. The simultaneous longings to smother him, to inhale the scent of his skin and hair to the point of narcolepsy, to hurl him aside, to rake and pummel his own disobliging flesh until the smell was ripped from his senses.

The memories of the past few months returned to his mind with perfect and unobscured clarity. He didn't know how it had begun. The entrancement had advanced in stages, so tiny as to seem unimportant, until the threshold of guilt had long been passed and nothing could be done to revive the past for either of them.

It was better than anything he knew or could imagine; more exotic and more absorbing and funnier and prouder and simpler. He couldn't forget it or rub it out; it was like a song running in his head which carried itself down his spine and through his bones.

It was all a comedy, Draco thought. He wanted to laugh, overtaken suddenly by the happiness of acceptance. There was nothing left for Harry or for him to fight against. They were no more than a comedy and a soaring Bludger, which seemed to carry the grains of tragedy away with it.

Draco's eye was caught by the golden glimmer of something flitting around his broom handle and he vaguely heard Luna Lovegood shriek something excitedly from her podium.

"I see it! I see the Wrackspurt! I can't wait to tell my father what it looks like! It's not always invisible! It's gold and it has silver wings…"

Draco snapped to attention, both of his hands making a wild snatch, just as the Snitch stopped its frivolous flutter around him and zipped downwards.

He gripped his broom with one hand and dived, his remaining hand reaching out, ready to catch the Snitch. Everyone in the crowd was yelling and screaming, but all Draco could hear was his own solitary thought.

_Catch Snitch._

He continued to gain speed, both the ground and the Snitch looming closer. All noise was drowned out by the whistling of the wind he was creating in his ears.

His fingers closed around the golden body of the Snitch, and with a loud thump he hit the grass and rolled off his broom, the Snitch struggling helplessly in his clamped hand.

Draco made his way to the Gryffindor changing rooms, determination crystallising inside him.

"_WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING? DIDN'T YOU EVEN CHECK TO SEE THE SCORE! HOW COULD YOU NOT HAVE NOTICED THAT WE WERE BEHIND BY ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTY POINTS!"_

The Captain of the Slytherin team, Uruqhart, had yelled at Draco until he had almost lost his voice, but Draco couldn't have cared less about Quidditch at that particular moment; he needed to get to Harry.

Just when he was free of his irate team mates, he ran into Blaise.

"Who could refrain that had a heart to love and in that heart courage to make love known?" Blaise imitated Luna Lovegood as he sprinted across the pitch.

Draco ignored Blaise and looked up to the score board where it still read:

**Gryffindor: 180**

**Slytherin: 170**

'I am crazy,' he thought to himself. 'Raving. There's no hope for me.' He grinned. There was relief in acknowledging his madness.

"Save the 'I told you so' and go piss off with Finnigan," Draco said, the grin slipping off his face. He didn't want to endure Blaise's taunting about being right. "There's a pact that needs attending to."

"What are you going to do, Draco?" Blaise asked, falling into stride next to him. "Potter didn't look too happy. He thinks you pushed him out of the way to get to the Snitch. Everyone does. Well, besides Seamus and I, and Loony Lovegood, but nobody takes her seriously."

"You would think that more people would have seen a big, black Bludger rocketing towards him."

"Seamus and I only saw it because we were watching you two. Everybody else was watching the game. Gryffindor was thrashing us so badly, everyone was in awe."

"Do you make a habit of spying on us? Have you got a thing for it, you and Finnigan?"

"You're lucky we saw! We're the only ones who can vouch for you!"

"I'll be fine on my own, thanks."

"So what are you going to do?" Blaise repeated.

"Let me handle that. You just concentrate on Finnigan."

Fortunately, Blaise didn't need to be told twice. He was off in the opposite direction faster than a speeding Bludger.

"We did it, Harry!" Ron patted Harry on the shoulder before folding up his Quidditch robes and swinging his broomstick over his shoulder. "We won!"

"I think not," Harry retorted and turned away, with a display of energy and feeling that surprised them both. "I did nothing."

"Malfoy didn't beat you." It was a flat statement. "He grabbed at you so he could get to the Snitch first. He tricked you. He cheated."

By the time Harry had finished getting away from Malfoy, it had been too late. He had been too busy focusing on his retreat.

His mouth had stretched wide in a silent howl when Malfoy had hit the ground. He knew Malfoy had beaten him. The power he had nourished had melted away like icicles in spring and left him with nothing but anger and humiliation. Even though Slytherin had lost, it had been a victory for Malfoy; a small, mean victory, but a victory all the same.

"What's happening, then?" Ritchie Coote asked, striding out of one of the shower stalls.

"I've got a couple of ideas," Jimmy Peakes said, twirling around a giggling Demelza Robins with one arm. "How about a party back at the common room for a start?"

Everyone agreed, and they were all soon making their way out of the changing room, laughing and pushing each other around playfully.

Harry remained seated on one of the benches. He had forgotten to shower and he was still only half-changed into his regular clothes.

He stared after his team crossly. Malfoy had caught the Snitch, and it had meant nothing to any of them.

"You coming, Harry?" Ron called from the doorway.

"In a minute," Harry replied distractedly. "You go on without me."

He pulled his t-shirt over his head and shoved his glasses back on. He began folding his own robes messily, upending his broomstick in his fury and knocking it to the floor.

As he bent down to pick it up, a noise from outside made him pause and look up.

Someone was standing in the doorway, motionless, watching him.

At first, Harry thought it was Ron or Ginny. But it wasn't either of them, nor any of the other members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

Stillness lay across the room, thickened the air and pressed on Harry, so that he found he could not move. A chain of tiny cold droplets of sweat trickled down his spine.

He stretched his fingers and they touched the discarded broomstick. He picked it up and slowly, against the heavy weight of air, placed it back on the bench.

The person stepped forward, and Harry stepped back.

Dancing.

Green eyes met grey and all the air was sucked from the room.

"I need to talk to you."

**Author's Notes:**

In answer to a few questions:

I'm not a wizard, I didn't write all sixteen chapters in one day. The horrible truth is, I've been writing and posting this story since the 1st of March this year on other fanfiction websites. Now, this chapter was really hard to write. (Even JKR, the legend herself, had difficulty writing Quidditch matches!) And when things get difficult for me, I switch into procrastination mode. So posting the story here was a result of my procrastination. MY HIDDEN SHAME!

It was horrible! I hadn't updated since the 19th of May! THE SHAME OF IT ALL! In my defence, Quidditch was a tough one to get my head around. And to make up for my horrifying slowness, this chapter is 5,400 words, the longest one to date!

BUT NOW IT'S OVER! The impossible chapter I mean, not the story! We still have at least two or three chapters to go until we reach our happy ending.

_"Who could refrain that had a heart to love and in that hea__rt courage to make love known?"_

If you didn't know that that is from Macbeth, you need to brush up on your Shakespeare…or the crappy teen movies that quote him.

"_Doctor, I'm getting a little tired of the sexual innuendo."_

"…_In your-endo!"_

A quote from Scrubs, said by the wonderful Todd!

"_Show Todd some love!"_ Hehe…sorry, I couldn't resist.

Anyway, show Lucy some love and review!

:-) Lucy


	18. Chapter Eighteen: Bite back

Thanks to Sanguiyn my wonderful beta, who not only saves me from grammatical errors, but also dresses as a super hero when she does it.

**Disclaimer:**

Loosely based on '10 Things I hate about you', which was based on Shakespeare's 'Taming of the Shrew'.

You all know that I don't own the Harry Potter characters (JKR does). But if I did, something like this would happen to them...

"I need to talk to you."

The familiar sound of Draco's voice caused Harry to clench his fists and punch.

It was like the instant of the Bludger being hit, clean and pure, except that Harry slammed his fist into Draco's face instead.

Draco staggered backwards, instinctively grabbing his wand from his pocket. It came up in a silvery arc through heavy air and came to rest against Harry's throat.

Draco was gasping with shock, and a red blaze burned on his cheek, his wand vibrating against Harry's skin.

"I really don't want to hit you back, Potter," Draco whispered. "It would make such a mess." His eyes widened when he saw what his hand was doing.

His fingers opened, and his wand fell with a clatter. He put a hand up to cradle his cheek, thinking that the contact between them had broken. He eased away from Harry, his free hand hanging heavily and his fingers thick and clumsy, but Harry followed as if magnetised.

As soon as Harry was close again, Draco saw it and smelt it, a sharp, feral scent. His hands came up to show submission but Harry misread the gesture, caught Draco's wrists and held them down. The force of it made Draco wince with pain.

"Why not? You've already hit me once today."

"Hit you? I was stopping you--"

"Stopping me from catching the Snitch, I know!"

"No! There was a Bludger coming straight towards you!" Draco insisted. It came out too loud, almost a shout. "I stopped you from getting hit!"

"Yeah, right! Why would you do something like that for me?"

"I didn't want you to be hurt."

Harry's fists tightened around Draco's wrists, white-knuckled, a terrible reflex. He snorted with fake laughter. "Too late, Malfoy."

"I'm sorry, Harry. I don't want to hurt you; I've never wanted you to be hurt."

"Even though you did all that to me?" Harry jerked his head, pinning Draco with narrow eyes. He was close enough for Draco to see the tiny veins that netted the whites of them.

"You tossed me aside the morning after we-- literally tossed me aside. I hit the wall. It really hurt."

"You are faultless, Harry. Too good to be treated like that. I'm sorry."

"Why did you do it?" Harry was angry still, and he wanted to hurt Draco. His grip on him tightened further, and Draco allowed it, offering no resistance to Harry's sharpness, but all the time thinking that it would work out in the end. Harry's fury would diminish, he would accept what had happened and allow it to be put in the past.

"I was scared."

"Scared." Harry's mouth formed the word stiffly. "That's what Ginny said to Dean. She cheated on him because she was scared. It doesn't excuse what she's done. What you've done."

"I know. It was wrong." Draco was reasonable, even magnanimous. "I want you back."

"She said that too. 'It was wrong. I miss you. Give me another chance'," Harry recalled. "Who'd have thought a Malfoy would have something in common with a Weasley? I suppose that makes you scared too."

"No, we're alike. We were both stupid, only I was worse than her. I've been stuffing things up with you since we were eleven."

"Exactly. I should have known that we wouldn't work out. It was all a mistake."

'_It was a mistake. The plan was the biggest mistake of my life_,' Draco thought, and the idea, strangely, comforted him. '_I'll do it right. I'll do it right this time_.'

"Were you seeing someone else? Was that it?"

"No."

Technically innocent, but the smooth surface of honesty was so undetermined with the burrowing of despair and disseat that it had to collapse soon.

Harry saw that Draco's answer was the truth. Or at least near enough to the truth to allow his face to blaze with indignation.

"Where did you get that idea from? Let me guess, it was another thing that Weasley said," Draco continued.

Harry's head gave a wobble of outrage, and he let go. "Foolish Gryffindors and the foolish things that they say!"

He swung his fist and smashed it into the corner of Draco's eye. The pain lit a phosphor-white blaze in Draco's head.

Harry then took Draco by the throat and shook him. They staggered, locked together, and fell over in an untidy heap on the floor.

In the mist of momentary surprise and confusion, Draco leaned forward, dipping into space, swimming through nowhere until his mouth connected with Harry's. Warm, solid and a surprised hiss of indrawn breath. He pressed closer, willing Harry with all of himself not to recoil, or worse, try to strike him again.

There was a surge of delight when Harry began to kiss him back. He sucked the inside of his cheeks to stop his lips curving in triumph.

The kiss was awkward at first, as if they were tasting a dish they had once overindulged in. Then all too soon, it became a matter of scraped mouths and clashing teeth. Messy and imperative, like drinking when thirsty. Only it made them thirstier still. It wouldn't be enough, even if they drank until the water ran out of their mouths.

The kiss ended when Draco's hands, tangled with Harry's clothes, pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside.

He kissed Harry again, sliding his hands over the exposed skin.

Harry's skin was like satin. It was extraordinary after so much roughness and brutality to feel smoothness and warmth that seemed ready to melt at his touch.

Harry dropped his head, and Draco felt his lips and tongue against his neck, hot enough to burn skin.

He stared over Harry's heaving shoulders, and in a blinding instant, the room seemed full of people who crowded in to watch them.

The idea of sex, old sex, all the teeming sequences and varieties of it, was revolting and threatening.

The thought of it disgusted him. It seemed like it was all around them, oozing and creeping, contaminating what was supposed to be clean; what belonged to Harry and him.

Blaise always making eyes at Finnigan. Weasley and Corner hiding amongst the shadows of the Astronomy Tower. And another image: two people spread out, naked legs wound together, and a noise, the same sound, two voices.

"We can't do this. Not here." He took Harry's face between his hands, forced him to look at him.

Harry's eyes were heavy, and his mouth was swollen. "Everyone's gone. We're alone."

"It's not that, it's this place. It's so impersonal, makes this different." Draco's voice had come out as a croak. He was struggling to maintain control.

Harry wasn't listening. His fingers were at Draco's belt, clumsily unpicking the tongue from the heavy buckle. It was an unwelcome action, but it still excited Draco. He stammered. "I don't want this here."

"Yes, you do." Harry moved closer against him, lithe and taut, like a cat. His hands travelled downwards. "See?"

"No, Harry," Draco said urgently. He grabbed Harry by the back of the neck, just as if he really were a cat, and pulled him back. "We're going to a proper place, a bed. My room is closest. We can only do this there."

---

There was a seductive shimmer to the air inside of Hogwarts Castle.

The implacability of the fall and rise of the slight new breeze was soothing, and Blaise watched the movement of the fluttering green drapes until he felt he had become a part of it.

Dreamily, he thought, '_I could just lie here and let it carry me away_.'

His smooth dark hair was damp, sticking to his forehead, but he made no attempts to sweep it back. He was sweaty, exhausted, and his whole body felt as if a hundred thousand new nerve endings had just been connected.

He luxuriated in Seamus's heat on his skin; the warmth of him was radiating up from his body and entering Blaise's bones. The nakedness, the warmth on every inch of Blaise's skin felt magnificent.

He could smell Seamus's sweat, and the muskiness of it relaxed him. He eased them both further under the bedcovers with a sigh of satisfaction, settling down for sleep.

Seamus's head rested on Blaise's chest. He could hear the steady pounding of Blaise's heart, and when he moved his fingers, he traced the outline of Blaise's mouth and the curve of his nose, knowing the features by touch as intimately as he knew his own.

"I missed that." When Blaise spoke, his voice resonated within the arch of his ribcage and Seamus moved his head a fraction to press his ear closer to the sound. It was like hearing two voices, the inner and the outer. He simply rubbed his cheek against Blaise's sweaty shoulder in response.

The depth of the moment was crystalline and absolute, without the smallest possibility that it would be shattered in the next second by a loud banging of fists at the door.

"FUCK, IT'S LOCKED! BLAISE, OPEN THE DOOR!"

"That's Draco. He sounds mad." Blaise exhaled sharply through his nose. Through the thick wood panels of the door, he could hear Draco's erratic breathing.

'_Draco couldn't do it_,' his inner voice insisted. '_It didn't happen_.' He shook his head to drive away the thought.

There was no ready explanation to be found for what had gone wrong with the plan or Draco, Blaise added meticulously. It wasn't that he blamed Draco for being difficult; there had been too many wrong expectations placed on him. All his life, he had been struggling to make himself fit a predetermined shape.

Concern about Draco and Potter distorted the room's generous proportions and made them loom around him, sharp with threatening edges.

The air itself tasted thin, as if he couldn't draw enough of it into his lungs to make his heart beat steadily. Blaise had grown used to this feeling recently, but familiarity never lessened the impact.

"You told me that everything was fine!" Seamus moved his head so that his cheek was no longer touching Blaise. "You told me that you took care of it!"

"I did take care of it!"

"Then what is Malfoy yelling about then?" Seamus was suddenly upright, pulling back the covers and swinging out of bed.

"I KNOW YOU AND FINNIGAN ARE IN THERE! I CAN HEAR YOU! OPEN THE DOOR AND YOU BOTH BETTER BE FULLY CLOTHED!"

Blaise groaned and began groping around blindly for his discarded clothing.

"If Harry's not okay…" Seamus grumbled, his voice trailing away as he slipped his rumpled t-shirt over his head. He sat on the edge of the bed to put on his socks with his back to Blaise, the mattress dipping under his weight.

"I'm in big trouble," Blaise finished Seamus's sentence and gave a long sigh. He stood up, not in any great haste, and in one fluid movement hoisted and buckled his jeans.

"BLAISE ZABINI! OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!"

"You said we have to be dressed before I do!"

"FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!"

Blaise stuffed his feet into his trainers, stumbled over to the door and fumbled with the knob before swinging it open.

"Well, when you told me to 'piss off with Finnigan', what else did you think we were going to – shit! Draco, what happened to your eye?"

Blaise's own eyes grew to twice their normal size at the sight before him. He stood frozen in the doorway, his mouth agape.

Draco's left eye was puffed up, the skin crimson and shiny. A large bruise with oozing margins ran from the centre point of his cheekbone to the corner of his eye.

There were purple marks like flesh bruises showing through the skin on his neck, and he was clutching something desperately in his arms, as if it were a rope that someone had thrown him across treacherous water.

Blaise blinked.

It was Potter.

Potter's top lip was swollen and prickled with beads of sweat, and his hair was standing out more than usual with a piece of blanched broom tail twig caught in it.

Both boys were only dressed from the waist down and appeared to be having severe breathing difficulties, their scarlet chest having in unison.

_Just-fucked_ was the phrase that came to Blaise's mind, but the large bulges jutting from their trousers suggested otherwise.

"GET OUT OF THE WAY!" Draco screeched, pushing past Blaise and dragging Potter into the room.

"Let me get this straight," Blaise demanded, overcoming his initial shock. "You bang down the door, demanding that we get dressed and then charge in half naked!" He gestured to Draco's creased and dusty attire. Appearances had always been crucial to his friend up until this point.

"You and Finnigan always get this room! It's our turn now! _Get out_!"

"Where are we supposed to go?" Seamus asked from his position on the bed. He had paused halfway in slipping on his shoes, his shocked expression replaced by one of relief and amusement.

"Gryffindor tower, the bottom of the lake, I don't care! Just get _out_!"

"You're not the only person who didn't get any this week, you know." Blaise was smiling in exactly the same way as Seamus, as if he was holding back from saying something that would be much more irritating to Draco.

"We'd both be getting it a whole lot faster if you'd piss off!"

"Okay, you can have this room." Still smirking, Blaise let out another sigh.

"Thanks, but I wasn't waiting for your permission. FOR FUCK SAKE FINNIGAN, COULD YOU TIE THAT SHOE LACE ANY SLOWER?"

"Why, yes actually, I could--"

"If you're not out of here in _five seconds_, I'll do to you what I did to Theodore Nott!"

Seamus picked up his other shoe and scurried out of the room with it in hand, Blaise following closely behind.

---

The moment Blaise closed the door behind him, Draco propelled Harry backwards and hoisted him onto his bed. Immediately, Harry twisted his legs around Draco's waist to hold him.

Harry undid the zip of Draco's trousers. Everything was fine there. When Draco didn't make the corresponding move Harry undid the zip and buttons of his own jeans and lifted his hips, encouraging him. He needed to be joined to Draco, just as he needed to breathe and eat.

Draco tilted upwards on his elbows, looked down at him and sighed. He was squinting, because he could only open one eye.

"You've stopped. Why have you stopped? Is it your eye?" Harry put his finger up to touch the place.

"No."

"I really should take you to the hospital wing."

"It's just a small bruise. I'll be fine. You've given me worse before."

"Merlin, I shouldn't have--"

"I've given you worse before. I'm not going anywhere, not now."

"Okay then." Harry arched his hips to push higher and harder.

Another sigh. "Harry, I am not going to do this."

Surprise made Harry jerk backwards, and the back of his head hit the wall.

"Ouch," he murmured and rubbed it with his hand. "Why not?"

"I don't think it is right." Draco reached out and picked the twig out of Harry's hair, separating it from the dark strands so as not to pull on them.

"You changed your mind again. You don't want me back." Harry took the twig from him and tetchily cracked it between his fingers.

"Don't be silly. Of course I do."

"Well, come on then." Harry tried to smile saucily at him, but his lips seemed to get stuck.

"No."

"What's the matter?"

Gently, Draco put his hands on Harry's waist, stroking them upwards, splaying his fingers so they rested in the indentation between his ribs. "Before, you were just the Boy Who Lived. Now I know you, you are Harry to me."

He gathered Harry up and rolled adroitly so that Harry ended up on top. "I want everything with you, everything _from_ you."

Harry understood and immediately objected to what Draco was suggesting. "I can't. I don't know what to do. I've already hurt you."

"I'll tell you." There was a pleading note in Draco's voice. He seized Harry's wrist, hard, then turned it over, and with infinite gentleness, kissed the thin skin where the pulse beat. "It will be fine."

Lust scraped away Harry's insecurities. Sex had flown in and unbalanced them both. "Okay."

"Okay." Draco repeated. "Now, put your arms around me. Here. Touch me. Take this off. Wait. I'll do it…"

There was a tangle of leftover clothing, the creak of Draco's belt and a soft thump from Harry's trainers, and then they were naked and enveloped in each other.

"What do I do?" Harry's mouth came close to Draco's ear, as if even here in Draco's bed they might be overheard.

"I used a charm last time, but I keep a tube of lubricant in my bedside cabinet. We can use that."

Harry's mouth curved in a nervous smile against the skin beneath Draco's ear, causing him to shiver. "I'll get it then."

Harry quickly sat up and began rummaging through Draco's drawer, his hands shaking with anticipation.

Draco lay with his head propped on one hand, memorising the chain of bone that formed on Harry's spine, and the lean hips, and the shadow of his ribs showing through his flushed skin.

Harry could feel Draco's gaze on him and trembled with the longing to be touched by him again.

He located the tube and ripped off a loose piece of parchment that had been stuck to it. He was about to discard it when he noticed it had his name on it.

"Hurry up, Harry."

Harry looked up and saw Draco's pale, pointy face through a fog of rage. It was as if all the capillaries had suddenly burst inside his skull, flooding his brain with black blood and madness.

He screwed the piece of parchment up into a ball and threw it aside. With a single swoop of his arm, he lunged across the bed, and with all the weight of his body behind it, he slammed his knuckles deep into Draco's injured eye.

He hit out, and hit again. Draco went down instantly, and when Harry looked at him, he saw that his face was split wide open. There were teeth and bone in a mess of blood, and Harry was certain that he had killed him.

Sick horror and a wash of memories from the war rose up in him, and he staggered backwards, hands up in a vain effort to shut out the sight.

Then he blinked, and looked again. He was still holding the parchment. Draco was still looking patiently at him. His hands shook.

He jerked his eyes away from Draco and the parchment, and gathered his thoughts.

_Leave now_. The words pulsed in his head, taking on neon-light colours that hurt the inside of his eyes. _Just leave, get out of here and away from this_.

The blood still hammered in his head. He eased himself off the bed and snatched up his jeans.

Draco raised himself on one elbow. "Harry, what are you doing?"

"You can see what I'm doing."

"I told you, we don't need to go. I don't need the infirmary. Get back in bed." Draco was disoriented, dizzy from lust.

"_We_ aren't going anywhere. I am." Harry stuffed the parchment into his pocket.

Draco followed the movement and gasped. He understood everything that was happening instantly. Physical desire flipped into panic.

He bent down sideways and picked up his own trousers, briefly holding them in front of his chest as if they were a piece of body amour, ready for the anticipated onslaught.

"It's brilliant really, when you think about it, a perfect ruse. I should have expected no less from a Slytherin." Harry looked around for his shirt. It was missing, he realised. He had left it in the changing room. It didn't matter.

"Harry, let me explain. It's just one of those dumb things, it doesn't mean anything."

"It's just a Slytherin thing? Something you all do for a bit of a laugh. It's not very funny."

"Harry, please listen to me. It wasn't like that, okay?"

"Really? What was it like? Zabini making it with Seamus was all you were after when you planned this?"

Draco said firmly, "I never had any interest in Blaise's pursuit of Finnigan."

"What was in it for you then?"

"You," Draco said simply, but when he saw that it wasn't enough he continued. "Being with you is unlike anything I have ever known. It wasn't about Slytherin. Well yes, at first it was, alright. But then it changed. I began to care about you."

Harry stared at him. He wanted to have Draco put his arms around him and hear him say that this was all a mistake – not in the guilty, formulaic way that he was saying it now, but in a way that meant he could believe him. And at the same time, he knew that this was utterly unrealistic because he would never be able to believe what Draco told him, never again, no matter what he said. Draco had lied to him and was lying to him now.

"If you cared, you wouldn't have lied." He was dry-eyed, and his voice sounded level. But he didn't feel in control. His stomach churned with nausea, and the palms of his hands were wet. "It's my fault too. I never should have believed you. I never should have agreed to the pact in the first place."

"Harry, just give me a chance to--"

"No. I don't want to be near you anymore. I…I hate you. _I hate you_."

"No, you don't." Draco replied. "You've just forgotten." But Harry was already out the door.

Draco hadn't forgotten.

_I love you._

He wriggled into his trousers and jumped out of bed.

'_I'll do it right this time_.'

**Author's Notes: **

Well, you all knew that this was coming, and if you didn't know, then…SURPRISE!

You can complain, but just remember, you all asked for it: 'Make Draco suffer for what he did to Harry, Lucy!' I was only doing what you asked!

You all also asked for a happy ending, and I'm going to do that for you (and me!) as well.

Now, I won't be able to update for awhile (at a crucial point in the story unfortunately), but I know that it won't be an issue for anyone, seeing as you will all be too busy reading 'Deathly Hallows' to care.

As much as I've grown to like and enjoy writing my story, the actual Harry Potter book, and the final no less, is WAY more important. (I might try and squeeze in another chapter before the 21st, we'll see.)

The endings of the last two books were ruined for me, by two people who to this day are still suffering the consequences. So, I'm not leaving my room, answering my phone, or turning on my computer until I have read the very last word.

I am a slow reader, so I might take longer than most people to finish it. When horrible things happen, like Dumbledore dying or Harry dating Ginny, I tend to get mad and need a break from reading.

I put the sixth book in the freezer twice because of the two aforementioned instances; both the book and I needed some 'cooling down'.

So, if Harry, Draco, Ron or Neville (especially Neville!) die in the seventh book, you know exactly where my copy is going – right next to the ice-cream and the frozen peas.

Many, many thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far. I usually reply to all my reviews, but things are getting pretty hectic at the moment. But please know that I love and appreciate all my reviews, and that they give me great support. You guys rock my socks!

Cupcakes to you all!

:-) Lucy


	19. Chapter Nineteen: Just follow me now

Thanks to Sanguiyn my wonderful beta, who not only saves me from grammatical errors, but also dresses as a super hero when she does it.

**Disclaimer:**

Loosely based on '10 Things I hate about you', which was based on Shakespeare's 'Taming of the Shrew'.

Gilmore Girls quote alert in this chapter too...kind of. ;-)

You all know that I don't own the Harry Potter characters (JKR does). But if I did, something like this would happen to them...

---

"Harry, please stop! I'm sorry!"

"You're only sorry because you got caught."

_But I love you._

"Please listen to me! I can explain everything!"

"I'm not interested in anything that you have to say. You're a liar."

_But you love me._

All the torches lining the corridor flicked and burnt out, signalising that it was now after curfew.

The darkness was intense, and Draco widened his eyes in an effort to see ahead. Harry was only a couple of steps in front of him.

Filch and Mrs Norris could be anywhere, lurking and waiting, immediately ready to catch students out after hours, yet Draco felt a pressure to speak that was too strong to resist. He had to tell Harry something he had never told anyone else, and the urgency of it filled his mouth.

_I love you_. _You love me._

It was the truth; as close as he had ever got to it. But Harry didn't know. He had forgotten, fallen asleep.

A liquid wash of desperation poured through Draco. If he didn't say it now, this minute, it might be too late. All the blocked avenues and dead ends of the past would come together to make one huge impenetrable dark obstacle, and that would be his life, and there would never be the light and luminosity that he was stumbling towards in this fateful night.

"Harry, I l--"

Suddenly there was a crash. Harry swore and muttered, "Lumos".

A second later, light was lapping up the walls and sending a moving orb of visibility around where Harry had walked straight into a suit of armour.

He scrambled to his feet and shone the light on Draco.

"Stay away from me." The wand-light threw his features into exaggerated relief. Draco couldn't see his eyes, only the dark sockets. Harry turned and stalked away.

Draco found that his confession had died in his mouth. He couldn't pipe up now and tell Harry. He could only continue along the corridor with him; keep walking and pleading and calling Harry's name through the darkness.

The smear of Harry's wand light was visible in the distance, swaying in the blackness. Draco toiled on after it, following Harry's light up the stairs and down the endless hallways.

---

"I told you Draco would come around," Blaise gloated as he reached the portrait hole for the Gryffindor common room with Seamus. "I was right. Admit it." It was too dark to see anything but the faintest outline of Seamus's face.

"Fine." Seamus aimed a kick at his shin, and Blaise caught his wrists to stop him. They scuffled like puppies, laughing and puffing until they stumbled against the wall. "I should have never doubted you. Happy?"

"No, actually. It kind of backfired on us. We lost our room." Blaise slid closer to him, winding his arms around Seamus's neck.

"I suppose you expect me to wait here all night for you," the Fat Lady huffed from her painting. "You boys are aware that it's after curfew?"

Seamus ignored her. "If we hadn't gotten out of there as fast as we did, we would have lost a lot more. I didn't want to end up like Nott."

"I think I should check and make sure that everything is still in place," Blaise replied, "just to be on the safe side." He ran the tip of his tongue from the corner of Seamus's mouth to the angle of his jaw and buried his nose in the warm cleft behind his ear.

"I think you'd better," Seamus replied breathily.

Hip to hip they began to slide down the wall. The sound of approaching footsteps jerked them upright again in a tangle of legs and arms. Blaise whirled around and almost collided with Potter.

Potter was holding his wand in front of his nose, bisecting his features. The wand light neatly divided the planes of his face, light and shadow, sharp and soft.

"Harry?" Seamus lit his own wand to see him better. "What are you doing here?"

Harry didn't answer. His face was puffed with rage. He withdrew the parchment from his pocket, scrunched it up and flung it at Seamus.

Seamus caught it and asked, "What's this?" before the hall became very quiet. The Fat Lady peered over his shoulder as the ball of parchment was unfurled with a small scratching noise. He shone his wand light onto it.

The words written on it read:

_Step 1: Draco asks Potter out_

_Step 2: Blaise gets Seamus_

_Step 3: Draco shags Potter_

_Step 4: Break up one of the Gryffindor couples_

_Step 5: Draco breaks up with Potter_

"Oh my," The fat lady gasped, covering her mouth with her podgy hand. It was a theatrical gesture.

"Blaise, what is the meaning of this?"

"I don't--"

Harry cut Blaise off before he could answer. "You don't know?" he demanded of Seamus. "You didn't have anything to do with it?"

"Of course not! If I had known what they were up to, I would have never…"

Blaise made the connection quicker than Draco had done. The parchment. The one Draco had written the plan on. Pansy had told him to throw it away. He had forgotten.

He rushed in, "Seamus, Potter, you know, it isn't--"

"It isn't what we think? Is that what you're going to say?"

Potter and Seamus had the same stance, the same look of confusion and anger on their faces, and their likeness made Blaise feel defeated. They protected and looked out for each other, the two of them, that's why they started the pact in the first place. If it came to a test of loyalty, Blaise had always known there was no question to where Seamus's would lie.

"It was all an act. You used Harry to get to me."

"No, not that. Honestly, it's not what it looks--"

"It looks like Malfoy didn't break up with Harry because he was afraid of commitment at all. He did it because that was your plan all along."

"That's not entirely true--"

"You lied to me. You tricked me into believing that I was helping Harry when I was really betraying him."

"I didn't lie. I just didn't tell you every--"

"Harry!"

Somehow, through the din, the sound of Draco's arrival registered on them. They swung their heads and wands in his direction and saw the damage on Draco's eye, shocking on his pale face.

"Hinkypunk!" Harry immediately yelled the password and climbed into the portrait hole as it opened.

Draco began to slide past the others in an attempt to follow him, but Seamus moved with surprising speed and cut him off.

Draco began a protestation, but Seamus hushed him. "You don't have a responsibility to him anymore, Malfoy. You can stop pretending. It's over. I'm ending this right now."

Blaise darted around and stood next to Draco. "It wasn't supposed to turn out like this."

There was an edge in Blaise's voice that gave away much more than his words. He was trapped, resigned to his fate, like a werewolf's victim when the bloodthirsty jaws close around their throat.

"No, we were supposed to be together," Seamus snapped sarcastically, "and Harry was supposed to end up alone. A much happier ending."

"No. Draco was supposed to end up with Harry."

"Not according to this." Seamus referred to the parchment. "'Blaise gets Seamus. Draco breaks up with Potter."

"I was tricking Draco as well, in a way."

"Well, that makes it okay then!" More sarcasm. "You can fool your friends as much as you like, I don't care, but my friends are important to me."

"Harry's important to me too," Draco said, finally stopping his attempt to get through the portrait hole. "I'll sleep out here all night just to prove that."

"Wow, Malfoy," Seamus said. "You should get yourself an agent, because you're wasting all your acting talent on duping us humble Gryffindors. And as for you…" He turned back to Blaise. "I think you are selfish. You are a horrible person and you were a lousy boyfriend."

"Were? What do you mean were?"

"You know exactly what I mean." Seamus threw up his hands and pressed the flat palms against Blaise's shirt-front. His amazing strength propelled Blaise backwards.

Blaise stumbled over his own feet, his mouth gaping open in momentarily surprise.

"Go away. Go away right now and don't ever come back here. I don't want to see either of you ever again."

Blaise took two more steps backwards and raised his hands in a gesture of defence. "I'm sorry you misunderstood me. I didn't--"

"It's not a misunderstanding. I'll say it again: Go away!"

"Can we at least talk this through?"

"Talk? I can't even bear to look at you right now. Just go." Seamus squared his shoulders and watched Blaise steer Draco away.

Blaise's grip was firm but Draco wouldn't relent. He tried to drag him down the corridor but Draco kept pulling away. His head went down and he writhed like a hippogriff being dragged to slaughter.

It looked as if they were fighting. Draco's arms raised; Blaise's locked round him. They lurched and banged against the walls.

"Get your hands off me, Blaise! I'm not leaving him! I'll stay out here all night if I have to!"

"That won't do any good. You'll just make it worse. There's nothing you can do."

Eventually, after more struggling and pulling and shouting, the sharp teeth bore down and made their mark. Draco gave in for the night.

He and Blaise made their way back to the dungeon in painful and blurred slow motion.

---

"Shit," Seamus exclaimed when he entered his dormitory. "Shit and fuck, and all that."

He realised that he was still holding the parchment and hurled it away from himself in disgust.

Harry was sitting on the edge of his bed. He had put his elbows on his knees and was resting his head in his hands.

Seamus walked over and hugged him. "How are you feeling?"

Harry snorted at the question and lifted his head. "Stupid. Deceived. Really, really angry."

He pulled away from Seamus. There had been too much touching tonight and his skin felt bruised by it. "I'm sorry for accusing you. I shouldn't have jumped to that conclusion. I was just really angry, you know. Couldn't see straight."

"I completely understand. What they did was deplorable, even by Slytherin standards. Do you want to talk about it?"

Seamus had told him it was okay to be angry, and it was anger that made him say coldly, "I don't know. Talk about what? We just need to be more careful from now on, that's all."

"Okay," Seamus agreed. "They'd better be careful too and keep out of our sight for a while."

---

The days passed, but every hour stretched out painfully.

Draco's eye turned from red to black and then faded through purple as the bruise healed, although raggedly, because he hadn't bothered to have it fixed by Madam Pomfrey.

Harry refused to even look in Draco's direction. Granger and Weasel were always beside him, two impenetrable stone pillars, somehow more menacing than Crabbe and Goyle had ever been.

Blaise had told Draco that there was nothing he could do, so all he had to do was wait until Blaise came up with another plan. Draco obligingly sat in the common room with him, completing his homework as though nothing had happened.

He eventually got sick of waiting. He threw down his Potions textbook and demanded, "What do we do now?"

"I don't know."

The realisation that Blaise truly didn't know shocked Draco at first. But then he became mollified by Blaise's shrugging carelessness. It meant – it must have meant – that their plight wasn't serious. He would just have to wait until Harry's anger subsided.

"So they're not an item anymore then?" he overheard a fifth-year Hufflepuff muttering in the library one afternoon.

"Who?" his companion asked.

"Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy," the boy replied, certain that no one was listening to them.

"I don't know. I don't think so. He wouldn't be ignoring Malfoy if they still were, would he? No, I'm sure they've broken up."

Draco suddenly became aware of his half completed Potions essay, which he had unconsciously crumbled and balled up in his fist. He shivered with a mixture of jealousy and fury.

"Good," the boy sighed contently.

"Fancy your chances with Potter, do you?"

"I might do. Hogsmeade is coming up, thought I could ask him."

At that point, Draco appeared from his hideout behind a nearby bookcase, flashed his prefect badge at them and gave them both detentions on the Hogsmeade weekend for 'making too much noise in the library'.

By the end of the week, Draco had put fourteen Gryffindors, twenty-one Ravenclaws and half of Hufflepuff house on detention for the Hogsmeade weekend.

The time for waiting was definitely over. He couldn't rely on Blaise to come up with the answers. Harry confronting him was even less of a possibility. _He_ was the one who needed to take action.

He had been bending and conforming, doing what he ought rather than what he could. He had been too dependent on other people for too much of his life. On his mother and father, his friends, Blaise.

He had set too much store by their instruction and trusted too little in his own instincts. Except for asking Harry to make love to him, that is. He had done _that_ by following his own instincts.

Right or wrong, foolish or insane, he had brought himself to this point, and all that mattered now was, as he had once said to Harry, to get on with his life. There was no question that he would and that Harry would be a part of it.

He lay on the couch by the fire in the Slytherin common room coming to these revelations.

"If we're going to mope around, we might as well do it properly." Blaise appeared and handed Draco a large bottle of Firewhisky; it was the type of thing that most Slytherins kept handy.

Blaise had misinterpreted Draco's silent contemplating as wallowing, yet Draco still accepted the bottle appreciatively.

---

Impatient with the close-set type and bored by the content, Harry looked up from his History of Magic textbook to see Ron standing in front of him. He was holding the crate of Butterbeers that was leftover from the Quidditch party.

"Get your cloak, Harry," he said, winking and patting the crate proudly.

"Why?"

"We need something to hide the Butterbeers under on our way to the Room of Requirement."

"The Room of Requirement?" Harry asked incredulously. "We have Quidditch practice tonight, Ron."

"But everyone is still recovering from last night's practice. We could all use a break, especially you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, come off it, Harry. You know he means Malfoy." Hermione appeared from behind her own pile of books and parchment. "And he's right; hiding under your broomstick and your homework is no way to deal with him. Put your book down and let's go."

"Those words: book, down," Ron gasped theatrically. "Is it possible for Hermione to use them together in a sentence like that?" Harry laughed and Hermione scowled.

"You're smiling!" Ron pointed at Harry excitedly. "It's the first time I've seen you smile in days! See what I mean? You need this. Grab your cloak. Dean, Neville and Seamus are meeting us there."

Harry rushed to his dormitory only to return and see Ron and Hermione in the middle of a very heated argument.

Hermione was standing in front of Ron, hands on her hips and scowl still on her face, doing her very best Mrs Weasley impersonation.

"What do you mean 'guys only'? Harry is my friend too!"

"I know, but this is a guy thing. We all agreed--"

"Guy thing? Harry's gay! He's having boy troubles, not a guy thing! If anything it should be 'gays and girls only'."

"It's more of a Slytherin thing then."

"Do I look like a Slytherin to you? Dean's dating a Slytherin and he still gets to go."

"I know, but he's a bloke and we all agreed--"

"Fine, Ron!" Hermione snapped before stalking back to her parchment pile. "Enjoy your guy thing and get used to it because it's going to be 'guys only' for you for a long time!"

"I'm going to pay for that," Ron grimaced before smiling at Harry and patting him on the back. "Got your cloak? Good. Let's go."

The Room of Requirement looked comfortable and welcoming.

Dean, Neville and Seamus were already seated in the chairs surrounding a large shagpile rug, and a small fire was crackling away in the corner. Harry sat down with them on one of the cosy couches and let his head fall back luxuriously against the cushions.

"Come on, Harry. Give us all the dirt on Malfoy." Ron handed out the bottles of Butterbeer and popped the top off his. "We'll have a good laugh at him. It'll make you feel better."

"We already had enough on Malfoy before Harry dated him," Dean reminded, pointing his unopened bottle at Ron.

"The amazing bouncing ferret!" Ron agreed, happily raising his Butterbeer in a mock toast before taking a large gulp.

Harry started to laugh, like all the others, then a flicker in his chest made the laughter stick in his throat.

Malfoy had proven to be even more dislikeable than ever before, yet after everything that had taken place between them, sincere or not, Harry knew that he'd never be able to look at him in the way that he used to. Malfoy wasn't the amazing bouncing ferret anymore.

---

"Things are different, you can tell me now." Blaise blinked back the tears the first gulp of Firewhisky brought to his eyes. "What was it really like, the first time with Potter?"

"Are you trying to make me feel more remorseful than I already am?" Draco asked moodily, taking a large swallow of Firewhisky. The rawness of it in his throat was fiercely pleasurable. He thought he could easily get drunk, letting all his locked-up feelings run sloppily loose.

"No, I'm trying to make you feel better. Remind you of the good times." Blaise took another happy swing from his bottle. "Go on, what was it like?"

"Like…" Draco gave a small sigh, his chest perceptibly rising and falling. His idea was tangential enough to make him wonder if he was already drunk, but he didn't miss a beat. "It was like going to heaven."

---

"Bloody hell." Ron cursed, furrowing his brow in concentration. "There are so many…"

"The time Buckbeak attacked him!"

"The time Hermione punched him in the face!"

"The time Harry punched him in the face!"

---

"The look on his face when I told him to call me 'Cupcake'."

"The look on _your _face when you saved him from that Bludger."

"The look on _your _face when Madam Pince kicked us out of the library."

---

"What about Zabini, Seamus?"

Seamus looked as uncomfortable as Harry. He drained the last of his Butterbeer and set the bottle down. "So many faults I wouldn't know where to begin."

There was a small silence, but he didn't elaborate.

Ron laughed, nudged another bottle towards Seamus and sank deeper into his seat.

---

"It's all my fault, you know," Blaise groaned, resting his cheek against the bottle he had just emptied. "Pansy told me to get rid of the parchment, but I forgot to."

"Too – _hic_ - busy – _hic_ - thinking about your – _hic_ – dick."

"No, I was too busy thinking about Seamus's dick," Blaise corrected. He went to take a sip out of his bottle, forgetting that it was already empty.

---

"I think he's an underhanded bastard." Ron was in top form, still convinced that this was the best way to perk Harry up. Harry didn't take the bait. He sat and listened to everyone else bad-mouth the Slytherins.

"Both of them are," Neville piped up, finishing off a Butterbeer and placing it in the large pile of empty bottles that had formed in the middle of their circle. The rug was barely visible underneath.

"They would use anyone in their path to get what they want," Ron nodded enthusiastically. "Makes me sick."

---

"I think I'm going to be sick," Draco cried, covering his mouth with his hand.

"Very funny. You need to stop being so dramatic whenever I talk about it." Blaise clumsily opened another bottle of whisky, spilling a lot of it over his shirt front.

"No, seriously, I'm gonna vom--"

Draco reached the bathroom just in time, throwing up in the green-painted toilet.

---

"We could have done with some real drinks, you know, Ron," Dean complained, opening another Butterbeer with a soft pop.

"I know, but Butterbeer was all I could get on such short notice," Ron replied disappointedly. "Sorry, guys."

Harry stared into his own Butterbeer gratefully. Somehow he didn't see how alcohol would make him feel any better.

---

Draco felt good. He continued to drink more whisky, even after throwing up. It lay uneasily in his stomach, but it had the effect of dividing his thoughts from the rest of his weighty self. He felt clear in the head and quite untroubled, with the knowledge that whatever he did or whatever happened wouldn't matter much. Not enough to worry about. Not enough to care about.

"You're drunk." Pansy suddenly loomed over him.

"You're sexy," Draco giggled drunkenly, almost falling off the couch. "For a – _hic_ – girl."

"Alright, the fun's over. Time for you boys to get into bed." Pansy helped Draco off the couch into a standing position. He swayed uneasily from side to side.

"Don't wanna go to bed. No Seamus." Blaise spread himself out on the couch in the space that Draco had left.

"No Finnigan - _hic _- no Harry," Draco agreed, not being able to stay upright on his own and collapsing all over Pansy.

"Well, drinking yourselves into a coma isn't going to bring them back." Pansy gritted her teeth, unable to support Draco on her own. "Can I get some help over here?!"

Blaise raised his whisky bottle in a salute and stood up, only to promptly fall onto the floor.

Crabbe materialised at Draco's side, placed a secure, beefy arm around his waist and relieved Pansy of his weight. Goyle appeared a second later and pulled Blaise to his feet.

Draco's shoulders slumped, and his head rolled forward. The next thing he knew, he was lying in his bed and Pansy was tucking the covers so tightly around him that he could hardly breathe. Blaise was already breathing heavily from his bed, small snores catching with each breath in the back of his throat.

"If Potter could see you now…" Pansy said disapprovingly, before flicking the lights off and exiting the room.

The darkness punctured Draco's absorption in his drunken shining moment, and all the old black shadows came flooding in on him. He struggled to stand upright in a tangle of sheets and blankets. He wanted to move. He wanted to go to Harry. Now.

The common room was all in darkness now. He made a beeline to the exit; it was a long way, much further than the thirteen steps he knew it to be.

"Lum – _hic_ – os."

Draco tried, but the spell didn't work. He staggered down the corridors blindly, banging into suits of armour along the way.

"Hink - _hic _– y – _hic_ – punk."

The Gryffindor common room was dark and empty as well. Draco slipped to the stairs and crept upwards, trying to set his feet silently on each thread. But his legs were unsteady, and the floor dipped beneath him like the deck of a ship under way.

His steps were silent as he opened the dormitory door and made his way towards Harry's bed, until he stepped on something which made a soft crunching noise.

He bent down and picked it up. The light from the full moon outside revealed that it was the parchment he had written the plan on. He frowned at it for a moment, before continuing on to Harry's four-poster.

The curtains were already pulled back, and Draco began patting around blindly for the warmth of Harry's body amongst the covers.

"Ha - _hic _– Harry." When he couldn't find him, he threw in the bedcovers back. "Are you - _hic _- there? I need to – _hic_ - explain this to – _hic_ - you."

After more feeling around, it became clear to Draco that Harry's bed was empty. But if Harry wasn't here, where was he?

The Quidditch Pitch, maybe. Harry liked to fly.

Draco ran across the room to the steps. Down the corridors he ran faster, even though the stone floor was cold under his bare feet.

Once outside, he looked back over his shoulder only once to check his progress across the grounds.

It was dark outside, except for a golden glow near the edge of the forest and a grey curl of smoke rising from a chimney. It was the Gamekeeper's hut. Harry was always visiting the half-giant with Granger and Weasel. He could be there, rather than the Quidditch pitch.

Draco tripped just short of the hut and landed flat on his stomach on the hard ground.

Glancing into the forest from where he lay, he saw lights moving ahead of him. They were receding further into the trees. There was a pale glow, which wavered between the black holes of the spruces.

"Ha – _hic _- Haaarrryyy!" he called out, picking his wand up off the grass and standing.

His voice sounded weak and flat as he staggered drunkenly into the forest, and the breeze made an endless whisper. "Harry."

Draco began to run. He stumbled across roots and brambles until he reached the black canopy of trees, and then he threw himself in among them. The light ahead tantalised him; it was further away, growing fainter. "Harry," he yelled. "Wait for – _ i hic /i _– Wait for me."

All around him was the shiver and rustle of woodland. He began to run again, clawing his way through the trees. Sweat from the effort of running so hard almost blinded him. He was crying and gasping for breath as he scrambled on. Harry was here somewhere. He had to reach him.

After another hundred yards, with his lungs threatening to burst, Draco realised that he was running downhill. He crashed to a stop and looked around wildly, his breath as loud as tidal surges in his ears.

The dark was diluted and then dispelled by the light he had followed into the trees. There was the sound of an engine and the screech of a horn.

A car was thundering towards him, its headlights now flashing and its doors flapping as if it were a bird preparing to take flight.

At first, Draco could hardly move against the pressure of shock and dizziness. He unsteadily pointed his wand.

"Petri – _hic_ – ficus Tot – _hic_ – alus!"

His freezing charm backfired, sending him flying backwards, his arms and legs flaring as wildly as the car doors. The back of his head struck the trunk of a nearby tree. He went down in an untidy heap and lay amongst the thick tree roots.

His eyes widened in the blinking darkness and his vision became more blurred. He felt he was drowning in an infinite sea of pain. The car continued to roar towards him.

"Petrificus Totalus!" He raised his wand again, raw desperation in his voice.

It worked. The car froze, the flashing lights stopped, and the darkness became absolute.

Draco stumbled to his feet with difficulty, wincing in pain. Over his head the huge oak tree spread its branches like veins against the sky. They seemed to toss with the wind, though it was a still night. The melancholy and doom that hung about it reached out to clutch at him, as strong as gripping hands. Weakly he staggered backwards a few paces. Harry wasn't here; he wasn't anywhere near this place.

There was a dark mass ahead of him, more solid than the woven trees and branches. When he moved, the wrist thick tree roots caught his feet. He froze into stillness, not knowing which way to turn in order to get out. His innards loosened as he shrank backwards, one more step.

He was stumbling backwards, and then it seemed that the ground opened like a mouth and he was falling into it. A yelp started out of him, but it was abruptly silenced.

**Author's Notes:**

Oh my gosh! It's time for my notes but I have nothing to say…how very odd.

So…er…I guess the only the left to say is…REVIEW! Go nuts! And when I say go nuts, I expect nuts to be going!

:-) Lucy


	20. Chapter Twenty: The Forbidden Forest

**Disclaimer: **

Loosely based on '10 Things I hate about you', which was based on Shakespeare's 'Taming of the Shrew'.

You all know that I don't own the Harry Potter characters (JKR does). But if I did, something like this would happen to them...

---

He opened his eyes. When he moved his head a stab of pain shot through it. His mouth was dry and his throat was sore.

Where was he? How had he gotten here? If he could only remember what happened last night…

"Good morning, Blaise!"

"Piss off," Blaise croaked, shielding his eyes from the bright light as Pansy threw open his bed hangings.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, failing to hide her smirk.

"I feel like a bunch of Blast-Ended Skrewts are having a party in my head."

Pansy took a vial of hangover potion out of her pocket. "Well, sit up and drink this."

"Can't. Move."

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you the Drama King of Slytherin! Allow me, your Majesty!" Pansy began to tickle him under his arms.

He struggled to sit upright, weakly fighting her off. He snatched the bottle from her and drained it in one gulp. "Drama King? Draco is far worse than me."

"Oh, I know." she replied, walking over to Draco's four-poster. "He's the Drama _Queen_."

"Well, you better wake him up and give him some potion. Otherwise we won't hear the end of it all day."

---

Harry gave his Firebolt a final wipe down and placed his Broomstick Servicing Kit back in his trunk. He was up early despite the previous late night.

"Are you ready, Ron?"

"What?" came the groggy reply.

"Quidditch."

Ron groaned. "But it's a Saturday! We don't have practice in the morning."

"I know, but you need to work on your Starfish and Stick." Harry ripped open Ron's curtains and began to poke him with the handle of his broom.

"Ouch!" Ron yelped, sitting up in bed. "Watch it, Harry!"

"Hurry up then," Harry replied impatiently.

"We can't practice this morning." Ron rubbed the arm that Harry had poked, trying to think of a way to get out of Quidditch. "Because…er…because we're supposed to visit Hagrid this morning…yeah."

"Since when?"

"Since he invited us. Don't you remember?"

"No."

"Well, he did, so…er…looks like we'll have to leave practice for another day…or week…"

"All right then." Harry sighed. "Let's go see Hagrid."

He knew that Ron was lying, but he decided to go along with it. It had been awhile since he had seen Hagrid and the visit would be enough to keep his mind occupied for the morning at least.

---

Pansy and Blaise stood in front of Draco's bed looking in. Blaise peered past Pansy's shoulder, running a hand through his night-tousled hair. Draco's bed was empty. It smelt unused.

"He won't be far away," he muttered, in response to Pansy's shocked expression.

"He drank as much as you did last night and you couldn't move until you took the hangover potion." Pansy patted the bedclothes, as if she might be able to detect the warmth of Draco's body, before turning back to Blaise. "He must have been out all night."

"He probably only went, only…" Blaise's voice trailed away as he tried to come up with an explanation for Draco's absence. Draco didn't have friends, not outside their exclusive Slytherin circle. There was only one other person who knew Draco as well as himself and Pansy. "Potter."

"That's not possible," Pansy said grimly. "Dean and I were hanging out in the Gryffindor common room last night, just an hour or so. I left because it's kind of heavy there right now."

They were boxed in by truths that had been easier not to confront and now by unthinkable new possibilities. Pansy took a breath and launched herself at them. "It's heavy because of what you and Draco did, okay, and there's stuff going on. Dean said that a group of them were going to take Potter out for a bit and try to cheer him up. They wouldn't have let Draco anywhere near him."

Blaise pressed his hands together to try to ease the tension that twisted his sinews. He walked the confined width of the room and back again before speaking again. "He was really drunk. He probably just passed out in one of the corridors."

"You might be right," Pansy agreed. "If so, we need to find him before one of the professors does."

"Where did Dean say they were taking Potter last night?"

"I don't know. He didn't say."

"All right, first we'll go to Gryffindor Tower and find out--"

"Are you crazy?" Pansy cried. "You'd be as welcome up there as a Muggle-born in Slytherin. I'll go. You stay here in case Draco comes back."

Draco didn't show up in the time in which Pansy was gone. Dean had been reluctant to share any information about the previous night, muttering something unintelligible about the seventh floor corridor.

Pansy and Blaise checked all the empty rooms and prowled back and forth along the seventh floor. They were about to give up and start searching somewhere else when something caught Blaise's eye.

"Look!" He pointed to a highly polished door that seemed to suddenly appear in the wall. "I could have sworn that door wasn't there before."

He reached out, seized the brass handle and pulled the door open.

Inside the room was filled with nothing but trees, so tall that the branches seemed to stretch beyond the ceiling.

Silence swelled and rushed away before becoming a vast shell containing tiny noises – the furling of leaves, the whisper of the breeze, and the rustle of something moving in the vegetation ahead of them.

Wide-eyed and open-mouthed, Pansy stepped onto the path that revealed itself as a discernible glimmer of pale ground.

"Don't." Blaise grabbed her arm and pulled her back. "It's probably one of those tricks that the Weasley twins left behind last year, like that swamp or something. Let's go check the Quidditch Pitch."

The day ticked on and slid into a motionless afternoon. Blaise and Pansy searched all the usual hideouts to no avail. Draco had simply vanished.

They trickled back to the castle, having found nothing, except the awareness that there was so much space and so little for them to go on.

---

Harry and Ron stood on Hagrid's doorstep, knocking for what seemed like ages. There was no answer.

They turned around and were about to head back to the castle when they caught sight of Hagrid. He was striding out of the forest with a large shovel slung over his shoulder. He spotted Ron and Harry instantly and quickened his pace.

"Mornin'!" he called cheerily. "Wha' are yeh doin' out here so early? Shouldn't yeh be at breakfast?"

"You invited us over." Ron provided quickly.

"I did?" Hagrid looked confused for a moment before smiling. "Well, come on in then. I was 'bout ter put a pot o' tea on anyway. I'm exhausted. Fluffy's bin tearin' the forest apart. Gotten inter the habit of diggin' holes, the silly dog. Got up early this mornin' ter start fillin' 'em in. The unicorns keep fallin' inter 'em. I'm getting sick o' fishin' 'em out."

Harry and Ron emerged from the hut a short while later, nursing several chipped teeth from attempting to eat Hagrid's rock cakes.

They made there way silent-footed across the grass. Harry was surprised when he felt something crunch under his foot.

He reached down and peeled a piece of parchment off his shoe. His stomach flipped when he noticed the familiar script.

He remembered throwing it at Seamus, and then Seamus tossing it aside in their dormitory. How had it gotten out here?

Perhaps Seamus had disposed of it out the window and the wind had carried it to the edge of the forest. But there had been no wind. Perfect Quidditch conditions, as he had repeatedly mentioned to Ron. Growing more curious, Harry glanced into the forest.

When he had returned from the Room of Requirement he had found his bedclothes twisted and pushed aside. For reasons he couldn't begin to fathom someone had tried to sleep in his bed. He had seen the evidence, but had forced it to the back of his mind.

"You right, mate?" Harry snapped out of his trance at Ron's question.

"I'm fine." Harry shoved the parchment into his pocket before Ron could notice it and start another rant about the Slytherins. "I've just got a bit of a toothache."

At lunch and dinner, Harry's eyes kept turning to the Slytherin table. He noticed that Malfoy was absent on both occasions and Parkinson and Zabini were looking around the Great Hall anxiously, snapping their heads to the doorway whenever someone entered.

As Harry lay down for sleep that night, his stomach churned with a mess of unknown forbidding and grief, as though something wasn't right, something that had everything to do with him.

---

After dinner, Blaise and Pansy sat in the Slytherin common room, waiting, willing Draco to appear.

They waited in excruciating idleness, making detours around each other, opening and closing textbooks that neither of them wanted to read.

Darkness fell early, bringing with it a shower of sharp rain. The change in the weather seemed to come within the space of a single day. Yesterday it had been full of sunlight, but today there had been a smoky, wet-leaf warning.

In the middle of the night, Blaise and Pansy headed up for bed. Twenty-four hours since Draco had last been seen.

---

When Draco opened his eyes it was on the other side of some long, distressing interval. Time had passed, but he had no idea where it had gone. At first he could see nothing but blackness and his eyes searched the margins of it.

There was a cage of pain around his head, and his mouth was ragged and sticky with thirst.

'My head hurts.' He tried to call out, struggled so hard that the cry should have been deafening, but no sound came.

_Hurt, hurt, hurt._

He was lying in a pit like a grave. There were black crescents of earth in his fingernails and his neck and legs were twisted. When he reached for his wand, he noticed that the impact of his fall had caused it to snap in two. He felt droplets of rain prickling his face and in an agony of thirst he tried to drink them.

---

The night following Draco's disappearance passed and there was still no sight of him.

Blaise and Pansy slept hardly at all. In the very early morning it had rained again, a heavy shower that thinned to a drizzle, then stopped altogether. The light brightened and by seven o'clock the sun shone in a clear-washed sky.

Warmth drew out the scent of wet earth and the blameless beauty of the grounds was an added reproach. The turrets of the castle stood out in sharp detail. There was no one to be seen on their decks or down on the grounds because everyone was either at breakfast or still in bed.

Harry went down to breakfast alone. The Great Hall was practically empty, with only a few students enjoying an early breakfast. Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson were among them. Harry shot a glance at them.

They looked more anxious than yesterday. Their heads were pressed together and they were talking in sharp, frantic whispers.

Harry's decision was resolute. _Now_, he thought, _if I'm ever going to_. He stood up and strode over to them.

Pansy and Blaise noticed Harry approaching before he reached their table. They pulled apart and abruptly stopped talking.

"Where is he?" Harry demanded without preamble.

"We don't know. We haven't seen him since Friday night," Blaise answered.

Harry turned to him. It was a shock when their eyes met because it happened so rarely. "That was two days ago."

"We've looked everywhere!" Pansy's eyes reddened with sudden tears.

"I found this on the edge of the forest." Harry pulled the parchment out.

Blaise gaped at it before asking, "The Forbidden Forest or the forest on the seventh floor?"

"There's no forest on the seventh floor."

"Yes, there is. When we were searching the seventh floor corridor for Draco yesterday, this door appeared and--"

Before Blaise could finish his sentence Harry had whirled around and was heading for the exit. "Are you coming?" was all he called over his shoulder.

"What? Where are we going?"

"The forest. For some reason he's in the forest. We have to find him and get him out."

"Which forest, Potter? The one--"

"There's only one forest! What you saw was just - just - just come on!"

"If he's in the Forbidden Forest shouldn't we tell Professor--"

"There's no time for that! He's already been in there for two nights. Need I remind you what type of things live in the forest? We can't afford to waste anymore time."

The three of them headed down to the forest. After several minutes, Harry broke the awkward silence.

"Why would he go into the forest? Hagrid had to practically force him in for that detention we had together in first year, and by the way that turned out it didn't look like he was planning on going anywhere near the forest ever again."

Blaise and Pansy glanced uneasily at each other. Blaise was the one who answered. "We think Draco's going off has got something to do with you."

"Why?"

"He was upset on Friday night. We started to drink Firewhisky and talked about…things. Like how it was before we all split. We think he went looking for you."

"Why would he go looking for me in the forest?"

Pansy shook her head dejectedly. "The type of crazy things you think of when you're drunk."

"He must have gone to my room first," Harry deduced. "Found the parchment and…gone to the forest? None of this makes any sense."

"No, it doesn't," Blaise agreed. "All we know is that Draco got drunk, stumbled into the Forbidden Forest and didn't come out."

"All right, Parkinson, you wait here." Harry instructed when they reached the forest edge.

Pansy began to protest but Harry silenced her.

"We need you to wait here in case something happens to us. If we're not out in two hours, go get help. If we return without him, then we'll go to the professors. Hopefully it won't come to that."

Pansy nodded. The effort of keeping her tears back made her glare.

"Zabini, we'll search at a distance of about ten or twenty yards. We'll cover the most ground that way. If you get in any trouble send up red sparks."

"And if I find Draco?"

"Green sparks." Harry withdrew his wand and Blaise did the same.

Pansy's glare dissolved for a second as Blaise put his arms around her shoulders in a quick hug before he followed Harry into the forest.

---

Blaise dragged his aching legs through the next tangle of briars. He was vaguely surprised by Potter's stamina and tenacity. He thought he was strong himself, but he was breathless and flagging in comparison with Potter.

The dragging process across the inhospitable forest was exhausting and the hopelessness of it chafed at him. He could only think of finding Draco and it seemed impossible that they were doing anything productive out here; surely the professors would have a better chance of finding Draco than they did.

"Hagrid said that Fluffy has been digging holes in here, so be careful," Potter had called out to him at the beginning.

"Fluffy? What's a Fluffy?"

"Just watch your step, alright?"

---

Draco opened his eyes again. Huge segments of time seemed to pass, yet he couldn't populate them with thoughts or sensations beyond generalised pain and tormenting thirst.

How many hours or days had he been lying here? Would he have been missed? Were they searching for him?

Somewhere in a dream or a delirium he had been calling out for Harry, the name was still shaped on his tongue.

He had dreamt about his father as well. They were superficially harmless dreams in which he served a family dinner of live Flobberworms at the Manor, or appeared smiling in a classroom at Hogwarts dressed in Death Eaters robes but with the mask held out in his hand for Draco to take.

He was more properly conscious now, and the only thoughts that filled his head were of Harry.

Harry was so admirable and strong. Weak tears collected in Draco's eyes when he thought of how much he loved him. He pressed one finger into his eye socket and tried to lick the moisture off it. His tongue was swollen and cracked.

Harry would think that he had given up. He would think that he had left him again.

It became suddenly of supreme, immense importance to relieve Harry of that thought.

No one was going to come and get him out of here, not Harry or Lucius or anyone else. He would have to extricate himself or die in a hole. Leave Harry. Screw things up for him for good. The whispers would follow him. _"Gone… his parents…his godfather…then Draco Malfoy…did you hear?"_ Harry would have to be harder and brighter and tougher than ever to make up for it.

Climb.

Climb out of here and crawl home. Forget the cage of pain and the thirst.

The lip of the hole wasn't so far away. Perhaps twice the height of his head. He reached up with clawed hands to the stones that jutted overhead. A knuckle of rock made a place to wedge his foot. His face scraped against the sour earth.

Not that way. The better way was to press his back to the side of the hole and jam his feet against the opposite face. It hurt his legs and there was a hot pain stabbing through his braced shoulders. A shower of small stones and chucks of earth rattled down, but he was able to lever himself up by a foot, then a few more inches.

The light overhead seemed to come no closer and the pain radiated from his shoulders to possess the rest of him. He braced himself once again and shuffled another step upwards, then one more. But the effort of holding his legs straight was too much. His knees folded and he fell back down, the shock of impact jarring a moan out of him.

He raised himself on all fours and looked upwards again. He saw that the only route was after all to climb using the knobs and tiny protruding ledges of stone. This time he moved slowly, considering each hand and foothold. Whenever he achieved an upward lift he hung motionless for a long moment, his face pressed to the earth, conserving his tiny store of energy. For a long, agonising series of movements the sky seemed to come no closer.

Suddenly the bottom of the pit was far below, a considerable drop. If he fell now he would be badly hurt; to climb up again would be impossible. The lip of the hole was within reach of his fingers as they strained upwards. He brought his feet level and hung on with his fingertips. He could see nowhere that might offer the next foothold.

_Up_. He focused on the thought with the last reserves of his willpower. There was a place about ten inches above his present toehold, no more than a shallow groove of dirt, but it might be enough. Cautiously he slid his right foot upwards, jammed it into the recess and tested his weight on it.

His fingers scrabbled higher and somehow the purchase held. Now his right hand found roots and stems growing beyond the edge of the hole. He grasped them and brought his left foot level with the right. His body was balanced on his toes, his fists desperately clutching the grasses.

There was a jutting stone higher to the left. He planted his foot and launched himself upwards, and there was an agonising moment when he had to give up his handhold and grope for another beyond it.

He found a thorny stem, which tore his palm, but still he grabbed and hauled himself up by it. Both feet were level again; his face was mockingly tickled by the fronds of grass. His breath sobbed in his throat.

"Help me," Draco whispered, but he had no expectation that help would come.

"Again," he commanded.

He tested his handholds by pulling on them. They seemed firm enough. Then he sprang up from the foothold. His feet flailed and scraped as he tried for a purchase. It seemed that he was slipping downwards, but somehow he hoisted his hips over the edge of the hole.

His feet swung in empty air and his face was smothered with soil and wet leaves. He dragged one knee over, then the other. He found himself crouched on all fours, panting like a dog.

Behind him was the pit, ahead and higher up was the oak tree. The chinks of sky visible through the canopy of leaves were a mild, smoky blue.

Draco began to crawl. His hands were torn, but he couldn't find the strength to stand upright.

---

Harry had lost sight of Zabini. He figured that the agreed distance between them had widened and he was much further over to his right. He stopped walking and cocked his head to listen.

There was the soft hooting of some owls and the gentle rustle of the trees, and he made to block them out. There was something or someone moving in the scrub below him, too close and in the wrong direction to be Blaise Zabini.

Harry took a step forward, then another, and stopped to listen again. The crackle of leaves and twigs had stopped.

"Draco?" he called. "Draco, Dr-ra-aco…"

There was an answer, a thin cry. "Help me."

He broke into a run, wildly crashing forward and slowing immediately because he made too much noise.

Draco was below him, not far away now. He could hear the repeated cry much more clearly. He ducked under the shadow-spreading branches of an old oak tree and saw him. The tiny white oval of his face was turned imploringly upwards.

---

Draco knew that rescue and safety were approaching, and then he saw who it was.

He stopped crawling and crouched with his arms crossed. He was very tired. His eyes flickered and his head was heavy, much too heavy for his shoulders. The bars of his pain cage were closing in, tighter and tighter.

"Please, Harry," Draco begged. "I-I--"

"It's all right," Harry whispered, locking his arms around Draco so that he whimpered with the pain of it. "You're found. You're safe now."

He held Draco's head against his chest, stroking his hair. He called out." He's here! I've found him!"

Harry pointed his wand to the sky, producing a spark of bright green light. Draco held onto him and looked into his face. There was enough light for him to see where the glimmer of Harry's hair bisected the sky.

He could feel the bars close in further and he opened his mouth to breathe. Instead of tactful and obliterating darkness the daylight now seemed bright enough to dazzle him. The need for reassurance, his own reassurance, made him speak in a voice that was barely a gasp.

"Harry, I…"

Harry didn't speak. He bent his head so he could hear Draco better. Their mouths were almost touching.

"I love you." The words finally wrung themselves out of him, burning in his parched throat. The words were like a foreign language, scratchy and unwieldy on his tongue, but he had uttered them. "Harry…"

The bars clamped down. Draco's eyes shut. He was too tired to stay awake for any longer. Later he remembered that Harry had picked the leaves and twigs tenderly out of his mattered hair.


	21. Chapter TwentyOne: Third time lucky

**Author's Notes:**

Wow. I can't believe it. This is the final chapter. I've finished my first WIP! I'm sad that it's the end but I'm also exited because now I can start a new story.

There are many people that I'd like to thank:

**Sanguiyn**, my beta/lifesaver, for putting up with my confused ramblings on a weekly, sometimes daily, basis. Cream pie fights forever! ;-)

**C Dumbledore, Sevfan, Lady Aubrey, Booklady and Calanthe**, the Hex Files team, for all the extra help they contributed in checking my story before validating it on their wonderful site

**Phoenix GhostPG**, my first fanfiction mentor, for all the useful advice and encouragement. Also for the cookies and 10 ratings ;-) …though I don't know where she's gone…:-(

**moi** for the motivation that helped me beat my writer's block and procrastination…I don't know where you've gone either…:-(

**Vittani**, another hero of mine, for the last minute help

**thrnbrooke** for reviewing every chapter (sometimes more than once)

**AddictedtoBuffy** for being a faithful reviewer until the very end

**lissagal99** for being reviewer number 200 (my ultimate goal) on forever fandom

**Cody, littlemisssunshine, Vittani and Lil Miss Shadow.5** for their supportive emails

**Moirieke/Marieke** for giving me cupcakes when I needed them the most

**SlytherinSerenityx**, a fellow newbie in the fandom, for her butt kicking and just plain awesomeness

And everybody else who reviewed or showed an interest in my story.

Cupcakes for you all!

:-) Lucy

**Disclaimer:**

Loosely based on '10 Things I hate about you', which was based on Shakespeare's 'Taming of the Shrew'.

Gilmore Girls quote alert in this chapter too. ;-)

The poem at the start is from '10 Things I Hate About You'. I just had to alter it slightly to fit our Harry and Draco.

One of the ending scenes is also taken from the movie. **Kichino Sarafu** requested the return of some humour. I hope that it makes you laugh again!

You all know that I don't own the Harry Potter characters (JKR does). But if I did, something like this would happen to them…

---

_I hate the way you talk to me_

_And the way you cut your hair._

_I hate the way you ride your broom_

_I hate it when you glare._

_I hate your big dumb Malfoy smirk_

_And the way you're constantly on my mind._

_I hate you so much it makes me sick_

_It even makes me rhyme._

_I hate the way you're always wrong_

_I hate it when you lie._

_I hate it when you make me laugh;_

_Even worse when you make me cry._

_I hate it when you're not around_

_And the fact that I don't pass you in the halls,_

_But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you;_

_Not even close;_

_Not even a little bit;_

_Not even at all._

_**-- 10 Things I Hate About You**_

Pansy was sitting near the edge of the forest on a broken tree stump that was furred with moss. The silence was absolute: solid, it lay like a suffocating coat over her skin, pressing down against her lips and eyelids.

She rubbed her bare forearms and felt the fine hairs prickle under her fingertips. Their two hours were up. Carefully, brushing her fingers against the mossy dead wood, she stood up and looked through the gap in the trees one last time.

A small sound of relief escaped from her mouth. They were making their way towards her.

The pale blur of Draco's hair and the faint outlines of Blaise and Potter burned themselves against the thick darkness. As they came closer, Pansy could see that Potter was carrying Draco and Blaise was stumbling in their wake.

Draco's arm reached up, lazy and proprietorial, and wound around Potter's neck like a noose. Then Potter dipped his head, apparently to check on Draco, and their faces blurred into one.

"Draco!" Pansy cried, when they emerged from the forest. "Is he all right?"

"He's fine, but we have to get him to the hospital wing." Potter replied briskly, sidestepping Pansy and walking with his eyes sternly fixed on the castle. Pansy and Blaise had to run to catch up.

"What are we going to tell Madam Pomfrey? He's going to be in so much trouble." Pansy turned to Blaise and grabbed hold of his hand.

"No, he's not," Blaise assured her, giving her hand a comforting squeeze. "We'll just tell her that we found him on the Quidditch Pitch…in the changing rooms. That he hit his head in the shower and nobody found him for two days."

"That sounds believable enough," Pansy agreed.

Potter looked back over his shoulder, still maintaining his fast pace. "You're quick with the lies, aren't you, Zabini," he called.

"We'll get detention if we tell the truth. Not just Draco, but us as well. We're not supposed to go into the forest," Blaise exhorted him, slightly panting with the effort to keep up. His drunken night and the two hours in the forest were beginning to take their toll.

"Fine. Whatever." Potter didn't argue any further, distracted when Draco let out a soft groan in his sleep.

The journey to the hospital wing didn't take long, with Potter leading the way. Thankfully they didn't run into anyone in the halls as everyone was still at breakfast or even still in bed. Draco seemed unconscious for most of the time, though occasionally his eyes would flutter open and stare at Potter momentarily before closing again.

The hospital wing was empty when they arrived, but the sudden banging of the door and the scurrying squeak of rubber soles on the plastic-tiled floor alerted Madame Pomfrey. She came dashing out of her office with her wand at the ready. "Good gracious! What happened?"

"He slipped in the showers," Blaise answered her. He told Madame Pomfrey the rest of his made-up story while Harry propped Draco up on the pillows of the nearest bed.

"That explains the concussion, but what about the gashes on his hand?"

"He must have done that during Quidditch practice or something," Blaise lied again quickly, avoiding Potter's gaze.

The nurse nodded. "It needs attending to as well."

She flicked her wand, producing a thick stream of white bandage that wrapped around Draco's wounded hand securely. She then bent over Draco, to draw the bed-things over his body, and bustled back into her office.

Pansy wanted to smother her friend with love, to choke him and ram his throat full of it. And with another part of herself she wanted to vent her anger for the last couple of days, by hitting and hurting and clawing at him in a blaze of retaliation. She held Draco's uninjured hand in her own and bit her bottom lip until it stung.

Madam Pomfrey returned, carrying a goblet in each hand. She gently opened Draco's mouth and pressed the first goblet to his lips, pouring the potion down his throat.

Draco's eyelids immediately began to flutter. He gave a low moan and opened his eyes fully. They focused, in an instant of confusion, and his silvery-haloed head rolled sidewards on the pillow. "It hurts. My hand," he said to Pansy, gazing at her through half lidded eyes.

Pansy loosened her fingers. They were cramped with the intensity of her grip. "I'm sorry. I'm so worried about you. I thought you were dead."

Madam Pomfrey looked a warning at her.

"I thought I was too." To her surprise Draco grinned, then winced at the pain from his split mouth. His lips were cracked by deep seams crusted with blood, and his tongue was dark and swollen.

"Nowhere near," the nurse affirmed, now giving him sips of water from the second goblet. "However, it was a bit of a nasty fall you took, Mister Malfoy. You'll recover easily, but I'd like to keep you here overnight."

"Okay."

Beyond the windows of the hospital wing there were trees and clouds, and the striation of light and shadow, the world. He had climbed up out of a dark place because he wanted to be back here again. The memory of the effort it had cost told him how much he had wanted it. Wanted Harry.

He was not like his parents, he was nothing like them or the melancholy predecessor that he was trying to be. He felt a lightness, not just in his knocked head but all through himself, as if he had discarded a weight he had dragged about with him for much too long.

He could see Pansy's chipped nail polish and the dirty, worm denim of Blaise's jeans with intense clarity. The room suddenly seemed empty and bland.

"Where's Harry?"

They all looked around. Harry Potter wasn't anywhere in sight. He must have slipped out while everybody's attention was on Draco.

"I'm sure he'll be back," Blaise said quickly.

Draco realised that they were all looking warily at him. It dawned on him that he was more hurt than he realised. "I am all right," he said clearly. "I am quite all right."

Pansy stroked his hair. "Of course you are."

---

The next morning, Draco was still in the hospital wing. He had had a slight concussion, a bruised collar-bone and severe dehydration. So with one less Slytherin to praise, Professor Snape was being twice as callous to the Gryffindors in his sixth year Potions class.

"I can't believe you saved Malfoy. After everything he did to you!" Ron hissed at Harry as Snape loomed over a shaking and very pale Neville Longbottom on the other side of the room.

Ron had been grumbling about Malfoy and Zabini ever since Harry had stumbled into the common room yesterday morning covered in leaves and dirt. Harry had immediately regretted not going to the showers first to clean himself up as, his housemates hadn't left him alone until he told them about Malfoy and the forest.

There was no explaining why he had felt it right to go and save Malfoy. It was to do with confusion and the possibility of finding answers. But now, after going, Harry only had more questions.

Malfoy had said 'I love you'. It had been quiet, barely a whisper, but Harry had heard it.

"Yes, he's my boyfriend," Harry replied to Ron without thinking.

Ron gaped at him. "Are you all right there, Harry?"

Harry gave a little shrug and prodded at his Potions ingredients with his wand.

"Do you need a glass of water…or a time turner?" Ron continued. "He's your ex-boyfriend. As in he was your boyfriend but isn't anymore. He deceived you and you dumped his--"

"LONGBOTTOM!"

There was a smash and a scream – most likely from Lavender Brown – as what appeared to be Neville's toad, Trevor, leaped out of Neville's robe pocket and onto his desk.

Neville's cauldron and apparatus went crashing to the floor, narrowly missing the toad, which began bounding away from the scene frantically in the direction of Ron, Harry and Seamus' worktable.

"Detention, Longbottom! This Hogsmeade weekend!" Snape barked, as Seamus made a wild snatch for the toad.

Amongst the disturbance, Ron took the chance to continue what he had been saying to Harry. "In fact, technically, he never really was your boyfriend. It was all a sham. Isn't that right, Seamus? Malfoy and Zabini were faking it."

At the mention of Blaise Zabini's name, Seamus promptly dropped Trevor into his own cauldron.

Luckily for Trevor and unfortunately for Seamus, the caldron was empty. It, along with the Potions ingredients Harry had been poking at, fell to the floor as Trevor made a second attempt for freedom.

Snape whirled around. "Detention for you too, Finnigan, and twenty points from Gryffindor."

Blaise sent Seamus a sympathetic smile, but Seamus ignored him. He ducked his head, face and neck reddening, and began to clean up the mess.

Neville started to clean his own equipment up as well, forgetting about his toad as it bounced out of the open door and into the hallway.

Snape towered over the cowering Gryffindor once again. "Bring that thing in here again and I'll put it into my next batch of pickled toad along with Potter's eyes."

Harry stood silently, indifferent and unresponsive, because he knew that the Potions Master was only trying to give him a detention as well by provoking him with a threatening comment.

Harry also had too much on his mind already to bother contemplating how the Potions Master knew about the valentine Ginny Weasley had sent to him back in second year. He was, however, thinking about what Ron had just said.

Ron was right, Malfoy had never really been his boyfriend, and Harry knew from experience, if you never truly had someone you suffer the loss twice over.

---

By the end of Divination that afternoon, Ron seemed to have run out of bad things to say about Malfoy. Harry was relishing the silence, as they made their way to the Great Hall for lunch, when they ran into Luna Lovegood.

She was lying flat on the floor, appearing to be looking under the statue of Gregory the Smarmy.

Luna was a strange girl, but Harry and Ron were still amused by the sight.

"Hi Luna," Harry greeted her. "What are you doing?"

"Hello, Harry, Ron." Luna replied, standing up and dusting herself off. "I'm looking for Trevor. Neville's lost him."

"Yeah, he escaped during Potions. We'll help you find him," Harry offered.

"That's very kind of you. I hope we find him soon."

"I thought you hated Trevor," Ron said to her, as he peered behind a suit of armor.

"Hate…Hate." Luna paused at the doorway of an empty classroom. "Yes, well, I hate the way he moves and I hate the way his eyes bulge out of his head. I hate his slimy skin and he's always causing trouble for Neville by taking off. But they're only things that my eyes can see and what they see doesn't matter, because when I search for him I don't look for him with my eyes. I look for him with my heart. My heart that loves how happy Neville is when I find – oh look! There he is!"

Luna disappeared into the classroom.

When Harry and Ron entered the room, Luna was perched on a desk, holding Trevor the toad firmly in her hand. "In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes. For they and thee a thousand errors note. But 'tis my heart loves what they despise, who in despite of view is pleas'd to dote."

"Crazy," Ron muttered to Harry, staring at the Ravenclaw girl incredulously. "Barking mad."

"Yeah, completely mental," Harry replied, not looking at him or Luna. "I'm just going to go to the bathroom. I'll see you back at the common room, okay?"

"Don't leave me with her!" Ron begged, but when looked around, Harry was already gone.

---

Draco stared at Harry in surprise when he entered the hospital wing, reassuringly three-dimensional and definitely not a dream.

He brought with him a bundle of cupcakes from the kitchens. "Hi. I didn't know whether you'd be hungry or not, but I brought these."

"Thanks. Thanks a lot." Draco smiled, talking to cover up the wild leap of his heart at the sight of him.

"How are you?"

"I'm all right." Better now that you're here.

Harry took a step closer towards Draco's bed. "I heard you were. But I thought I'd come by, just to see."

"I'm glad you came back."

"Sorry. I left after I knew that you were okay. You didn't seem to need me and I needed some time on my own…to think."

"Oh." Draco tried his best not to sound hopeful.

Harry didn't mention that he also left because he was still so angry with Draco for what he did that he wouldn't be near him, not even with Parkinson, Zabini and Madam Pomfrey as buffers between them.

There was a slight pause and Draco indicated for Harry to sit down.

Harry watched the movement of the bandaged hand, anger suddenly puncturing his soft expression. "How did this happen? What were you thinking?" he demanded.

"I wasn't thinking."

"You were drunk."

"Yes. I was looking for you."

"I wasn't there." There was exasperation as well as sadness in Harry's voice now, drowning out his short-lived anger.

"I know that."

"Do you remember anything?" Harry pulled a chair closer to Draco's bed and sat down.

"I remember flashing lights and a strange noise. I remember hitting my head and then falling."

"I think you fell into a hole."

"I know. I climbed out and then you found me. I remember that too."

"I found you," Harry repeated, suddenly ducking his head and talking with his heads clasped together tightly in his lap.

"You came for me. I was missing and you came to look for me in the forest."

"Yes," Harry said quietly.

"Thank you. You can't know how much that means to me." Draco reached over and touched Harry's clamped hands and squeezed them quickly, then let them go because he was afraid that Harry might object to such a demonstration. Draco had cleaned the earth out from under the nail tips, but the gash was still visible on his palm.

"You're okay," Harry told him. It was an appreciation and a wider assurance as well as being to do with the state of Draco's hand.

Harry lifted his head. The brief contact between them helped to free the words he had been struggling with. "I was afraid…I was so fearful that you might be hurt." The truth of this seemed enormous, swelling up and washing over him. "I feared that the smallest part of you might be hurt or damaged, that you might be taken away before I had even the chance to tell you so."

"Thank you."

"Stop saying that."

"I don't know what else to say."

"Start at the beginning."

"The beginning?"

"At first I didn't want to know about what you did and why you did it. Now I want you to tell me."

"It's complicated. I don't really know myself."

"Try."

Draco nodded. With a struggle, he put his words together.

"Blaise had been pining after Finnigan for weeks. He was going to make a move but then he found out about the pact. He begged me to help him, so I did. That's when we made the plan. It was partly for him and partly for me. It would help Blaise get Finnigan and it would hurt you. I would make you want me and then throw it all back in your face. But as time went on I began to want you in the same way that Blaise wanted Seamus. _That way_."

Harry was thinking that it should be awkward to hear Draco talk in this way after everything that had happened, but it was not. It was natural. He chose his words too carefully and tried too hard to make simple what was shaded with nuance and complication, just because he had misread the fact that Harry wasn't angry anymore, but he still said what Harry wanted to hear.

"I should have been able to talk instead, to you and Blaise, but I couldn't. What I felt was…ashamed." The word drifted and fell between them, as softly as a feather.

Harry felt his anger return and he tried to suppress it. "You were ashamed of having feelings for me?"

"No, I was ashamed of having those feelings and not knowing what they meant or what to do with them."

There followed a perfectly still, crystalline moment when Harry knew that he understood everything. The silence grew. They were both thinking of the red bedspread, the hollowed mattress.

Harry finally spoke. "I'm sorry I punched you. I'm sorry you fell into a hole and I didn't find you until after you climbed out on your own."

"If we're in apology mode I'm sorry about the plan. I'm sorry that you found out about it the way you did. I'm sorry I lied to you. I'm sorry for pushing you and making you hit your head. I'm sorry I hurt you. Um, is there anything else?"

"That seems to pretty much cover it."

"Will you forgive me?" Draco asked, tacitly avoiding the question of whether the two of them might start seeing each other again.

"I was so mad at you. Mad doesn't even begin to describe how I felt."

"You hate me," Draco said dejectedly.

"Yes. I loathe you. I can't stand you. Everything about you, I hate. I hate you. I hate you so much that…that I…" Harry wasn't thinking about the mattress anymore, but the thick canopy of trees and the heavy darkness of the forest. "I love you."

Draco beamed. "Well, then I hate you too. I hate you so, so, so much. With all my heart. Always. Can we make a proper go of it, you think?"

Harry's answer was to put his hands on Draco's cheeks and cup his face.

Draco stared up at him and raised his head, with his mouth almost touching his. Harry bent his head so that his mouth came even closer. His breath was warm on Draco's face. Draco reached up the remaining distance and kissed him.

Draco held Harry in a tight lock, as if he expected him to run away. But Harry leaned forward in his chair to reach closer to him, greedily and blindly kissing him back, digging his fingers into the stiff sheets, and everything else in the room stood still as if time had frozen.

The kiss warmed the blood in Harry's veins and he forgot the parchment and the betrayal that had governed him ever since he last saw Draco.

They didn't know how long they stayed locked together, buffered by all the bedclothes.

At last Draco lowered his head, Harry still holding his face between his hands.

"We need to do something before we can start seeing each other."

"What?" Draco asked, knowing that he'd do anything.

"Blaise and Seamus."

"I think we'll be able to figure something out," Draco smirked. It was time for revenge. It was time for Blaise and Finnigan to know what it felt like to be forced together. "Blaise will be no trouble, but Finnigan…"

"He'll come around," Harry assured him. "In the meantime, however, I should go."

"What?!" Draco wasn't smiling anymore.

"Sorry, Draco, I'm bound by the pact." Harry shrugged, beginning to stand up.

Draco grabbed hold of his sleeve and pulled him back down. "Screw the pact! You should be allowed to stay! I'm injured! I just spent two nights in the Forbidden Forest! I fell down a hole!"

"You'll have me back soon. I've seen how fast you Slytherins can scheme."

"I'm injured!" Draco repeated.

"It looks to me like you've made a full recovery." Harry laughed, glancing at Draco's bandaged hand, which was still holding onto his shirt tightly.

Draco unclenched his fingers and let Harry go. "There should be exceptions to your stupid Gryffindor rules."

"And there should be limits to your acts of Slytherin trickery." Harry stood up quickly, before Draco could pull him back down again. "I'll see you soon."

---

Draco was discharged from the Hospital Wing shortly after Harry had left. He went straight to Blaise and told him the good news.

Blaise's face lit up at first, but then he frowned dejectedly. "I don't know what I'm going to do about Seamus."

"Well, do you think you could hurry it up a bit? I want to go to Hogsmeade with Harry this weekend."

"I want to go to Hogsmeade with Seamus, but that's going to be kind of difficult seeing as he's not talking to me and he has detention--"

Blaise stopped short, gasping.

"What?"

"That's perfect! I'll win him back by getting him out of detention!"

"Oh, it's that simple, is it?" Draco rolled his eyes. "How do you plan on getting him out of detention exactly?"

Blaise ignored the question. "Tell Potter to be ready for Hogsmeade this weekend. I have a plan."

"Oh, dear Merlin," Draco sighed. "Every time you say those words, something bad happens."

"It'll work this time." Blaise assured him. "Third time lucky."

---

Snape's classroom was packed. So many students had been put on detention – mostly by Draco in his fit of protectiveness over Harry – that there weren't enough seats to accommodate them all, meaning that they had to either stand or share seats.

Seamus signed his name on the detention attendance form and passed it to the Hufflepuff who was sitting on his left. He looked over to the classroom door as it clicked open.

Blaise came marching into the dungeon. There was buoyancy in his bearing and a determined look about him.

Seamus' immediate and terrible instinct had been to duck away and hide from him, using the crowd of students as camouflage, but Blaise easily spotted him. He didn't change his pace as he walked past Seamus' desk, but looked pointedly over his shoulder at him on his way to front of the room.

"What is it, Mister Zabini?" Snape asked. With a careless flick of his wrist, the attendance form flew out of the hands of the Hufflepuff and landed on Snape's desk.

"I have some ideas on how we can improve the Quidditch team, sir."

"Very well. Let's talk about it later." Snape withdrew a quill and began to compare the form to another piece of parchment.

Blaise took the opportunity to motion to Seamus. He pointed and mouthed the words, 'the door'.

'What?' Seamus mouthed back despite himself.

"Door!" Blaise whispered and Snape looked up at the sound.

Blaise smiled and laughed cajolingly, moving to stand directly in front of the desk to block his view of the classroom. "As you know, at the end of the season we're always up against Gryffindor."

Seamus began to slide carefully out of his chair. He cringed when it made a screeching noise against the stone floor.

Snape made to look over Blaise in order to identify the source of the sound, but Blaise stopped him. He drew himself up to his full height. "They kick our butts every year. I was thinking. I devised a plan that will enable us to finally defeat them."

"Which is?" Snape turned all of his attention back to the Slytherin in front of him.

"Misdirection."

Seamus gestured to Neville to take his empty seat, so that Snape wouldn't realise that there was someone missing.

Neville did as requested, but in his nervousness he knocked the chair over when he went to sit down. It made a loud clanging noise that echoed throughout the dungeon.

Blaise raised his voice in an attempt to cover up the sound. "Think about it! Um, they're looking left, and we're flying right. Bang! We score. We win."

"Okay," Snape said slowly. "But how do we get them to look left?" He looked left himself, past Blaise, as Seamus tripped over the fallen chair.

"Um," Blaise said in desperation. "Like this."

Without any hesitation, he unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers and pulled them, along with his boxers, down to the floor.

Neville, who had finally managed to get into the seat, promptly fell out of it again at the sight of Blaise's bare behind. The other Gryffindors roared with laughter, several Hufflepuffs fainted and the Ravenclaws covered their mouths in silent shock and embarrassment.

Snape, on the other hand, was presented with a different, more private part of Blaise's body. His face collapsed inwards, a network of lines meshing his mouth and eyes, which had gone wide and cartoon-like in appearance.

Seamus slipped out of the room unnoticed.

Blaise pulled his pants back up and went to follow him. "Okay. Well, now that you've seen…the plan. I'm going to go and show the plan…to someone else. Okay."

All the students cheered and applauded his and Seamus' success as he exited the room, and for once Professor Snape couldn't be heard yelling at them to quieten down.

---

"Come on, Harry!" Draco whined, trying to pull the Gryffindor into his lap.

"No." Harry pulled away from him, scooting to the other end of the couch. "We have to wait. We don't even know if it will work. Blaise might stuff up."

Draco moved to touch him again but Harry caught his wrist, effectively holding Draco apart from him.

"No, Draco. It's against the rules. I guess we now know what it felt like for Seamus and Blaise."

"Not very likely! Blaise got to kiss Seamus before we were together! I know for a fact that they actually did a lot more than that!"

"You don't know that."

"Yes I do! That time in the library. Finnigan got under the table…" Draco trailed off, explaining the rest by gesturing to his crotch.

"Well, I guess we could--"

Draco didn't give Harry time to finish his sentence. He grabbed his hand and pulled him forcefully into his bedroom.

---

Blaise was pulled into an empty classroom the second he stepped out into the hallway.

"I can't thank you enough for helping me sneak out of detention. Very cool," Seamus said, to Blaise's delight, not letting go of his arm. "And very sexy. I forgot you had such a nice arse."

"You did?" Blaise gasped jokingly.

"You do realise that it would be impossible for you to pull your pants down while riding a broomstick at the same time."

"What can I say? My plans are always flawed in some way."

"Maybe, but they get the job done."

"You reckon?" Blaise asked, taking the cue and leaning in for a kiss.

Seamus stopped him. "Ha--"

"He's with Draco. They're waiting for us in the Slytherin common room."

"How…?"

"I'll explain on the way. You up for Hogsmeade?"

"Not really." Seamus smiled at him, teasing, with the tip of his tongue between his teeth. "I am, however, _up_ for something else."

He locked his arms round Blaise and pulled him off his feet. They staggered backwards together, a desk catching them in the backs of the knees as they fell. They landed in a tangle of limbs on the hard wood, Seamus catching Blaise's wrists and pinning them above his head.

He leant forward and ran his tongue across Blaise's lips and slipped it into the parting flesh. Their tongues slid across each other and Seamus moaned softly, his hands already loosening their hold on Blaise's wrists.

Blaise was soon able to release his hands easily and pull Seamus closer. He broke their kiss to whisper. "Now I have you. You are mine."

"Now, yes," Seamus breathed back. "Blaise gets Seamus."

Their mouths met again, opening wider, trading tongues, sucking and biting. Seamus' hand strayed across Blaise's shirt and fumbled to open its buttons. After a few unsteady movements he removed the rustling folds of linen and slid his hand up Blaise's bare chest. He broke their kissing for the second time, slipping off the desk to undo and discard his own clothes.

He leaned back over Blaise and unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers, licking the soft skin just above the waistband. Blaise lifted his hips, allowing Seamus to then pull the garment off him completely.

Seamus retrieved Blaise's wand from the pocket of his trousers before tossing them to the side. He climbed back onto the desk and snatched Blaise's hands into his own again, pressing the wand tip against them and casting the lubrication spell. He then lead Blaise's wet fingers to his opening, before letting go and placing his own hands on Blaise's chest to hold himself upright and brace himself for the oncoming intrusion.

Slowly, Blaise inserted a finger up into him. He waited until Seamus muttered roughly for more before sliding it in entirely.

He wiggled, pushed, pressed and thrust until Seamus began to moan and press back against him. He added another finger, spreading, caressing and stretching.

Seamus fumbled for the wand again. This time he cast the spell onto his own hand and reached down to coat Blaise's hardness.

Blaise gasped as Seamus stroked him, unable to wait much longer. "Are you--?"

Seamus was already moving. In one quick motion he pulled his hand away, pulled his body forwards and slid down, until Blaise was buried inside him.

The sudden white-hot tightness caused them both to moan and throw their heads back. Blaise's striking the sharp edge of the desk with a dull crack.

'Draco exaggerated,' he thought half-mindedly as Seamus arched his back and began to rock his hips. It wasn't like going to heaven, but it was pretty good.

center /center 

It hurt. The pain of it took him completely by surprise. He turned his head aside, biting his tongue and the inside of his mouth.

Harry fisted the pillows beside Draco's head, his face tight with longing and concentration. He groaned. "Are-are you okay?"

"Wait." Draco gripped Harry's waist, piercing the slick, sweaty skin with his finger nails. When he felt a little more comfortable, he pulled Harry in the rest of the way. His body shook with the resulting jolt of pain and stab of pleasure.

"D-Draco?" Harry quivered above him.

"Just another second."

Harry gulped and nodded, unclenching his hands from the bed linen to wrap his arms around him.

Draco kept hold of Harry's waist, but loosened his fingers against the trembling, firm smoothness as the pain began to subside.

Harry buried his face in his shoulder, and Draco felt the heat of his little irregular gasps on his skin.

"Okay now?" Harry asked again, after a few more challenging moments.

Draco pressed a blind desperate kiss onto the top of Harry's head. "Yes, I'm ready."

He was more than ready, more than okay. He couldn't even begin to describe how he was feeling. It was better than anything he knew or could imagine. It was exotic and absorbing and funny and proud and simple. It was being so close to Harry that he became him. Better than he could ever be separately.

The words ran around Draco's head until Harry began to move and they lost all meaning. All but one.

"Harry!"

---

"I thought for sure I was busted when I was walking out of the classroom, I tell you." Seamus told Draco and Harry as they walked out of the Slytherin common room, on their way to Hogsmeade Village.

"So how did you keep Snape distracted?" Draco asked Blaise.

At that exact moment, Professor Snape charged out of the classroom they were passing. A student came hurrying after him.

"Professor! I just have some things for Quidditch that I need to run by you!"

"Not now, Uruqhart, I'm busy!"

"But, sir!"

"No!" Snape didn't even notice the other four boys as he turned and fled down the corridor.

Blaise cast Seamus a sideways glance and they both coughed in an attempt to hide their laughter. "I dazzled him with my…Slytherin wits."

_The __Happy__ End_

---

**Author's Notes:**

As for the whole Blaise flashing Snape thing…It was either that or have Blaise sing 'Can't take my eyes off of you' to Seamus at a Quidditch match, like Heath Ledger did. I hope I made the right choice.

Oh my gosh! It's the last time that you can review for this story! Hurry. Hurry! HURRY! Review. Review! REVIEW! Pleeeeaaaasssseeee!

:-) Lucy


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